When He Said Hello
by MujerN
Summary: It's a mystery how possessions on a campsite vanish. Everyone's bewildered but Sam, a local. He knows how. He knows why. He knows a mute, young man living in the woods shouldn't be bothered. That's not what Bella witnessed, because just back there, when he said Hello, Bella was pretty sure the young man spoke to her. The mystery now is to find him.
1. Chapter 1 - Maine

**A/N:** This is my new piece written for **Babies at the Border Compilation**. Really fun writing this one. I heard a podcast story about a fascinating man, went on a hunt for the book, and day-dreamed of an extraordinary mind like his living in this world. I wasn't planning to write it, but then this awesome cause came about and I couldn't think of a better story to share! About 70% of this is based on true events and facts, the rest is a forced love story Christopher Knight would find so appalling and ridiculous. lol Apologies, Knight. He's smart and intuitive, yet a happily, lonely man. Only one journalist (who's had his share of career struggles) was able to reach him, visit his site, and empathize after Knight was caught in 2015. He talked to him in his lowest moments through letters in jail about living in the woods unnoticed, and without a single human contact for 27 years in Maine. I don't go to the movies alone because I'll feel terribly odd, just imagine—the fascination! The title to this fic is a riff off of a moment he told the journalist about the first time he uttered a word audibly the entire time he was hiding, and it was "Hi". Some hikers happened to pass by him on a trail, and his automatic response was the greeting. I just couldn't get over that fact. Of course, "When He Said Hi" didn't have a nice ring to it. lol

Knight now resides in the home of his parents after jail (if he's still there), living a "civilized" life as a working citizen, and not as happy as he was isolated (last I heard). I pray and hope he's okay wherever he is.

Special thanks to **SunflowerFran** for the beta and fixes that were confusingly written in a tough time this year. Also, while she was going through a tough time herself. I think she beta'd while bedridden! And for **Patrizia Amado** for pre-reading, calming me the fuck down about the deadline, and pushing me to make it damn right! I'll post the rest in Feb-March when I buckle in to write the ending.

Go read. Thanks!

* * *

 **When He Said Hello**

 **Prologue**

Bella knew her mother was right. She hates to admit it, but those were the best summers of her life.

She looks out from the porch, the breeze flows like her flower dress around her legs. She holds her sweater close to her chest. Bare feet. The memory of grass in the meadow beneath. So easy. Occasionally, memories come like a buzzing bee. You don't flick at it, or it'll sting. You don't pay it any mind. If you do, it's all around your ears buzzing, making you stop and stare at trees for hours.

She imagines him far away. He's there. She knows he is. Maybe he watches her now.

She hopes.

She always hopes.

…

 **Chapter 1 - Maine**

"Jamie, get him!" Bella cries. Her cackles are loud, and she flails her arms. Jen and Lauren giggle beside her. They sit on a rock to dry their clothes. Hours of paddling and doing handstands in the lake have made their bellies rumble. A hot dog would be perfect. A second kiss from him would be amazing.

Jameson swings off the rope and lands close to Ben. Ben is scurrying away as fast as he can.

The girls laugh until their bellies feel like they'll burst.

Jameson has always been the tallest, the fastest, the strongest. Ben has always fallen short. But his confidence and humor make him approachable, down to earth. He's always been the one everyone knows around here, for years. Jameson is the new guy who stays at the camp farther away during summers.

They all meet every morning at the lake. Then they hike up the trail back to the cabins when it gets too late.

Maybe Bella purposely stays back a little. She hopes, and she hopes for that dreamy moment when her legs go liquid, and she feels like she's swimming, but she standing, right up against him.

Jameson doesn't mind. He's older, but he figures it's summer and the girl is pretty. When school comes, he'll be far away, and the guys won't give him shit for hanging around with freshmen.

He walks closer and closer, until the smallest finger of his hand catches hers. He feels her look at him. He waits for the perfect moment when Ben is high up the trail, and the other girls follow; giggling all the way.

He cringes.

The setting sun is low enough, painting a purple glow and striking orange clouds from up above the peak. He knows it's right. He turns to her and bumps his nose on hers.

"Ouch," she mutters. There goes that. He could just dive off the cliff right now.

Bella just smiles and tells him, "Try it again." He looks into her eyes, and he knows he's never met someone as patient as she is right now. He tries again. Lips to lips this time.

He figures his friends don't matter. He figures she's just what he needs even when it isn't summer.

…..


	2. Chapter 2 - Trash Barrel

**Chapter 2 - Trash Barrel**

Jens jaw falls. She gawks. She backhands Lauren's arm and points. Lauren gasps the same.

There they are; Bella and Jameson making their way out of his mom's car. Together. Hand in hand.

Bella shyly beams when she walks their way. Jen and Lauren are cool and calm, but inside they're dying.

"See you at dinner?" she says to Jameson. He nods and pulls her in enough to give her lips a peck when his mom isn't looking. She's busy dropping off the canvas bags full of groceries for the summer.

The moment they step away, the girls squeal like idiots. That's what Bella's dad thinks as he rolls his eyes from the porch. He got to the cabin early to get a head start. Renee is already dusting the cots in the rooms to get themselves settled.

"Girls, quit your yappin'. I ain't havin' this all summer! You've been warned."

The girls pipe down.

"Yes, Charlie," says Jen too sweetly. She's always fancied him in his twitchy dark mustache. It grosses Bella out every time.

"That's Mr. Swan, and you know it!"

The try not to laugh.

They get going again when he heads back inside. He minds them for now and gets back on track on finding that bucket and trash barrel he swore he left under the porch last summer. Things don't just grow legs and walk away, for crying out loud.

He gets to shouting over his shoulder at Renee who's swapping pictures out from the frames and setting them back on the wall, hiding the stains. That one task he promised to paint over every time they come back to the campgrounds of Maine. Photos of the family, the progression throughout the year. She likes that. But mostly she does it to keep those ugly stains out of sight.

She rolls her eyes when he does shout. This time, she refuses to be bothered. "Go buy another damn barrel!" She yells back. She tilts a frame. Last year's Christmas card. Picture perfect.

...


	3. Chapter 3 - Jameson

**Chapter 3 - Jameson**

Jameson is perfect. All last year, in school, he would send Bella notes stuck in her locker. The sophomores all knew they were going steady. All the guys grumbled when the school year started. Their chances to grow the courage to talk to her, ask her to a dance, or be their lab partner for chemistry were ruined. Now the popular, pretty girl in school is taken.

And what a couple.

She already floods her notebook with their baby names and her own with a new surname. She wonders and wonders.

They walk around the camp, Jen and Lauren walk behind the couple. In awe. Jen makes this sour face, though, because now what? They were a team. The three chicklets. Now they're only two, and bored ones at that.

The camp prepares to get together tonight as a welcome back for the start of a great summer. Maybe they'll get to dance with new boys. Maybe they'll have a summer fling, too. All they know is this summer might just be a drag. Bella always was the life of their trio.

Renee braises the chickens and pops them back in the oven. There are two whole ones. She's done. She looks out the window, and she chuckles. Boy, does she know how it feels to be a third wheel. She watches as Jen and Lauren make exasperated faces behind her daughter and her new bae.

"Girls! Tell your mothers I've got the potato salad this time," she shouts out the window, because last time they were mush, not chunks. Renee won't have that.

They shout back, and they heard her.

Tonight she'll wear that new dress and no heels this time. Screw Leah and her fashion sense. She'd rather be comfortable than wobble around, sinking in soft dirt.

Everyone is loud and jovial at the campsite. Music plays and lights twined in the trees twinkle from above.

Greetings, hugs, kisses, and "how was your winter" are the similar actions and questions you hear around the picnic tables.

Renee grins at something Leah says and makes a face the moment she turns away. She can't believe she'll spend all summer with the loud-mouth woman bragging about her amazing potato salad and finger-licking deviled eggs. Bland, shredded cardboard is what Renee thinks.

Charlie is ahead when she looks up. His job was to get the chickens out of the warmers from the kitchen by now. She tries not to huff and puff but gives him a look instead. "Get the chickens!" she says through her teeth. He begrudgingly goes. Then he comes back empty-handed. He's turning in circles, looking at the table full of food Leah and the other cooks laid out.

The chickens are mysteriously gone. The party seems to stop. Everyone is bewildered. A search party is formed, yet no one seems to know how to find a pair of dead, garlic and lemon roasted birds meant for dinner. Eventually, they muscle through the least delicious foods on the tables spared from the mystery.

Renee is pissed.

….


	4. Chapter 4 - A Guy

**Chapter 4 - A Guy**

"The sheriff has been combing the grounds again. I told him about our barrels being gone, too. And Banner's pantry was emptied out of all the preserves his wife made and left to cure. I just don't know who would do such a thing," Charlie complains. Sam, his old friend who's lived outside of the grounds for years, slightly shakes his head.

Sam's not surprised. It's been quite a while that these oddities have been happening around here. He hears complaint after complaint about theft throughout the campsite and other residential areas. Thief of random things, too. Not money or jewelry. It's little things no one seems to notice until they're far gone, and it's probably been months.

Food. Trash bags. Bug spray. Toiletries and toilet paper. Gas tanks. Books. Magazines. Plastic bags. Socks. Shirts. Pants and even briefs, but never boxers. Things the camp would have in abundance, but find missing right out of a cupboard. No break-ins in sight. All the locks and hinges remained intact. The biggest items would never go missing during summer time while folks were around. A portable gas stove. A mattress and box spring and water hoses. But those went missing years past. Sam remembers, but the new campers wouldn't.

Sam knows about the town having a case open over this for years. But he doesn't concern himself. It's not dangerous. Never violent. If anything, owners leave notes and bags of food tied to doorknobs to get these thefts happening in an orderly fashion, at least. Never, not one note or bag were touched or emptied.

He's figured, just like many locals, that there are plenty of migrants passing through. Lots of hikers could make the wrong turn and get lost. Boy Scout rules are always to leave something in the pantry in empty cabins. You never know who would need the sustenance. If they're hungry, he guesses they would do just about anything to get food—especially from places that aren't lived in all year. No harm, no foul.

He doesn't have much to say to Charlie but nods and changes the subject. What can he do, anyway? He's old with achy bones and doctor's orders to get more fit. Hence the hike. Hence him saving his breath over talking.

They hike up the trials through a different way than Bella is used to. It still doesn't amuse her. She's bored and trying to keep up.

Jameson is busy with his mom today; quality time, as he said. Jen and Lauren are, too, though she thinks they're just sick of being around her and him. She thinks they've been acting selfish, and probably jealous of her relationship. She couldn't care less. All she cares for now is having to hang out with dad and his old friend. It isn't cool. But Mom gave her options; take a walk and get out of her hair, or hose down the porch and scrub it clean.

No way in hell is she gonna hose anything down.

She takes her damn time because she won't break out in sweat if she could help it. She shuffles and drags her feet. Then she's looking up, and Dad's out of view. She can hear them, but it's faint. She looks left, then she looks right. Her ears tell her they're up ahead to her left.

She grumbles. "Dad, wait for me!" When he doesn't answer, she speeds up. "Don't make me run. I told you not to walk fast!" she yells. She grumbles and grumbles. She yells a couple of times more, and maybe she lets a profanity fly above the treetops.

She swallows her shouts in one gasp.

Mortification crawls up her neck and colors her cheeks.

Instantly, she remembers that one time she was wearing her earphones and a great song started playing. There was no one around, so she took the chance and sang her heart out. But then a stranger appeared out of thin air and walked right by her. She never felt so stupid and embarrassed. She shut her trap and tried not to die of laughter.

This moment feels like that to Bella. But she's not laughing. This time, she's whining like a child as she comes face to face with a guy in a backpack.

A guy.

She swallows her words and hopes the ground would swallow her, too. There is no way he didn't hear her tantrum.

There are many hikers around the area. Some are extreme sporters and carry backpacks that hover over their heads. They're filthy and tired and look like they've been walking for months.

Usually, she ignores them. Sometimes she walks away quickly, some of them are creepy and stare for too long. But most of the time she asks questions. Her friends color in red with Bella's boldness. Bella always has something to say or learn. She's open with all souls. Her niche is to talk to anyone who would listen and tell her what they're like. She aspires one day to be a psychologist. Bella talks and gets to know anyone. Jen always says maybe it'll be a degree in being nosy, not curious.

Not this time. She grinds her teeth in mortification.

He's tall, shoulders hunched over with the weight of his pack. His hair is dark, and eyes seem like clear blue water you don't find anywhere around here. She can barely tell through his wire-framed glasses.

She bites hard on her lip and looks anywhere but his face.

"Hello," he says when they meet halfway. It's faint. Hurried, but forced. It sounded like it took all his strength to conjure up the greeting.

Bella can't help but look up. His eyes quickly flicker away. He turns his head in haste, like he said it to the trees instead.

Bella frowns. A weirdo. "Um, hi." She rolls her eyes the moment she passes by.

Charlie and Sam have found a place to sit. How nice. She wasn't invited.

After following the trail for a while, she finds them. She pulls out a water bottle and tries to find service on her phone, to no avail. She starts up a game of Tetris.

The old men yap and yap and she debates whether to go to the lake alone and cool down.

"Who's that?" says Charlie. Sam looks beyond the cliff and over to another, a good quarter of a mile away. It's the start point of this trail. The point Sam will not have the strength to walk to. He'll be going back the short way.

Sam shrugs.

"Don't think I've seen him around here." Charlie.

"Well, how do you know he's from around here?"

Charlie squints. "Hikers don't usually carry a small backpack like that, do they? He has to be from here."

Sam spits a loogie. It goes splat on a rock close by. "Good eye. Ever consider being a cop?" He chuckles.

Charlie rolls his eyes. Bella's are stuck to the weirdo standing solo between the trees far away. He's looking straight at her. She's not sure he notices he's acting completely obvious.

Creepers are gonna creep, she guesses.

"Don't mind him," Sam says. "He lives in the woods. Doesn't speak. He causes no trouble."

Bella looks at Sam. Her curiosity spikes. She looks back at Weirdo and takes him in. She sure heard him speak.

"You _do_ know him," Charlie grins.

"Haven't seen him in years, actually," Sam says, standing slowly. "Some folks aren't meant to be bothered." He waves a hand high so the stranger can see and walks away. "Like me, for instance. Stop bothering me," he grumpily tells Charlie.

Charlie chuckles and follows.

Bella is all a wonder inside as she watches him disappear.

...


	5. Chapter 5 - Sugar Bowl

**A/N** Loved your reactions! Love you all.

Took a sec from posting more since I'll be tweaking the timeline a bit. If you read from the compilation, make sure to read here as things might change (because clarity - facepalm). Love you, B

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - Sugar Bowl**

Bella can't stop thinking of the blue-eyed stranger. He's young. Probably in his twenties, and he lives in the woods? But, where? Why? Is he alone?

She wonders and wonders.

She watches Sam from far away at the family center and tries to work up the nerve to ask him more questions.

She can't.

The town crowd has gathered to discuss further plans to catch the thieves in action. Bella snuck in toward the back to listen. Jameson is outside wondering why she's so interested. Ben and the girls hang around with other kids from around the campsite. Bella is otherwise on a mission.

"There are hundreds of violations throughout the camp and local homes around the area. If you've noticed anything missing, please sign one of these forms and list the items beneath," says the sheriff from the front of the room. "We ask you to lock your cabins during the day and at night, especially when you leave for the weekend. If you're leaving for the winter, store away any outdoor items inside or in your locked shed. We're committed to finding the culprits this year with the help from authorities. Don't be alarmed if you see one of them walking around the premises."

Some locals laugh. Some scoff. One of them stands to speak. "It doesn't make any difference, Sergeant. We buy new security systems, mine is top of the line, and now I'm missing my damn sugar bowl." People laugh. The former sugar bowl owner goes a little red as he sits.

The sheriff's shoulders sort of drop. He doesn't know how to respond to that. The truth is, he knows it doesn't make a difference. This burglar has no qualms. The break-ins are the cleanest he and his team have ever seen. No prints. No broken locks. Windows are left intact. The Sergeant hates to admit that he's damn impressed. It boggles his mind the level of stealth.

So he settles the complaining crowd. There's nothing he can do but ask the owners to plant more surveillance to help catch the thief and end the meeting.

Bella thinks and thinks, even at the lake when everyone is goofing around and splashing one another she keeps her eyes peeled, just like new surveillance being installed in households.

Her mind runs through the lists from yesterday on the table at the Center. Every sheet had a few items that were similar. There's a pattern. She's not quite sure they've noticed it all points to male products, never female. And even car and motorboat batteries go missing. Lost hikers wouldn't take items that weigh them down, would they?

Sam was quiet at the meeting. She wasn't sure why he wouldn't point out the obvious. There's a boy in the woods who's probably the culprit to all this mystery. In any case, wouldn't he be a suspect?

He said some people shouldn't be bothered. Well, Sam is honoring that. He's deliberately leaving him out of the equation. He's letting the boy get away with this.

Bella looks over her shoulder where she sits on the towels by the lake's shore. She gnaws at her fingernails, spits them out, and looks the other way. Then that familiar feeling grapples at her shoulders; the feeling of being watched. It's slight, but with this new realization, it's like a boulder coming over her.

At the lake, there are many trees lining the area. To get here, you just hop-skip over fallen trees and climb coves. Anyone could be out there, and you wouldn't really know. It's why, when it's late, no one sticks around. The nightly creeks and buzzings give you the creeps. Your heart speeds—

Just like now.

The dark green shirt camouflages like squirrels hopping up tree barks. You spot them only when they move swiftly. She sees his back, he's retreating. Dark pants hug him, coming up short to his ankles. She loses him and then sees a bit of him.

Bella stands, runs up to get closer. She leans this way and that. Like a mirage, he's there then he's not. No backpack this time. If that's the case, he probably doesn't live far.

Jameson curls his fingers around her damp hair and kisses her beneath her ear. He saw her beyond the shore alone. The perfect moment to surprise her. They barely have time together.

Bella shivers. Not from the kiss, but for the feeling of wonder in what she just saw between the trees.

…


	6. Chapter 6 - Both Humans

**Chapter 6 - Both Humans**

Crack and crunch goes the ground beneath her feet. Branches twist and break as Bella hikes through the woods by the lake. Like a movie cliché, an owl hoots far away. It still scares the shit out of her. She breathes and breathes. One step at a time.

Bella is determined.

She had to lie badly. Mom thinks Bella is with Jen in her cabin for the night. Bella told Jameson she had to wash her hair, meaning 'do not disturb for the night.' It seemed to work. She didn't think it would.

That guy, the introvert, _the Weirdo_ , has to be around here. An hour goes by, and she's turning in circles around the trail she walked with Charlie and Sam.

She finds nothing.

Her feet hurt. She's kind of hungry. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Defeat settles as she treks back to the campsite.

She tries again the next night, with a sandwich this time. Then the next time she plops on a rock to eat a snack she made for that night. Every time she does the hike, everything seems less intimidating. The light of the moon seems to shine brighter. Her eyes get accustomed to the darkness. She goes further, dares to climb the dense areas she's never been through, and she slaps at branches with a long one she found on her second night.

She can still see the lake. Then she sees the light of the moon reflect off a canoe.

It moved.

She runs down a hill and realizes it was definitely a canoe. Her heart hammers when a shadow swings a leg over to hop into it. The bow swivels over his lap, and there he is.

"Hey!" Bella shouts. At this point, she doesn't care about formalities. She's found him after days of trying, and she will not let him get away.

The figure is surprised. He looks.

She weaves through trees to get to the dock, but her foot gets caught on a branch.

Bella tumbles down the hill. She grunts. Her arms shoot out to brace herself. All the cracked branches she probably turned under her boots are now scratching her skin.

Then the unthinkable happens ... definitely an integral imminent part of their story.

She continues to roll down, and that rock just sits there waiting. It formed for years and years, fossilizing to have a purpose, to be the bad luck for both humans; the unity of two strangers. One is curious, the other apprehensive of life itself.

The stranger tenses when he sees the fall, while Bella's consciousness goes black.

….


	7. Chapter 7 - A Clearing

**Chapter 7 - A Clearing**

Leaves sway and dance above. A breeze so slight and perfect touches her cheek. She has fallen asleep on the porch many times before at home. After school, or an early Saturday, Bella has heard the motions of the invisible presence cloak itself around the trees. It's the most calming feeling she could ever surround herself in, perfect for sleeping and clearing her brain.

It's dark. Not the familiar setting she's accustomed to waking up in. The sky has turned a light blue.

Dawn has broken ... but Bella isn't on her porch.

The trees bend and bow over a quiet clearing, right in the middle of the woods. It's always hot and sticky inside the cabins, but here, trees provide a natural circulation making it cool.

She blinks. Her heart is calm for the very few seconds it takes for her to realize this isn't familiar. Then, it speeds. She turns her eyes this way, then that. Nothing is in sight, just the vast expanse of the sky. She feels small. She feels it weighing down on her.

Moving her head is next, but she shouldn't have. Pain shoots up and she whimpers. She reaches and feels fabric there. She looks at her fingers. Dry blood smears down to her wrist.

She gasps. The sound travels like an echo. Then her screams follow right after.

Why would she feel fear now, after days of searching for him? She can't explain it. But his form is tall, dark, and intimidating above her.

His arms spread in panic. He covers his ears, then covers her mouth with trembling hands.

 _No, no._ This will ruin everything he's built for himself.

"Shh, shhh," he soothes. Her eyes wide with terror, just like his. Then, she bats him away. All the women's defense moves from the internet spin behind her lids, yet she's doing them all wrong.

He forces her to sit. He grabs her flailing arms and pulls. He sits, too. Face to face they pant their terrors away.

"Shh. Please," he says one last time. His throat bobs. The motion of speech is foreign to him. He cannot remember the last time his vocal cords vibrated, went through the motions it does when a person speaks. He hasn't done that in years.

Except—he thinks—just a few days ago, when he said, "Hello." The person the greeting was directed toward is now sitting on his quilt.

This is why he has rules. No connections.

He wasn't sure what came over him. He needed to stretch his legs. The day was cool and perfect for scavenging the big kitchen in that campsite he lives by. It's routine. Summer came, and his starving stomach and muscles made the trek back to a habited camp that has been empty all winter.

He shakingly hiked to the closest place to keep his strength, never stopping to take even one bite of food he found until he was back in his tent. He stuffed his backpack with Styrofoam and plastic covered meats, never exposed ones. Peanut butter; chunky, never the creamy kind. Chips, beer, and condiments to go with the pack of hotdogs he also found. This summer he's out of ketchup.

His backpack was full when he crossed paths with the young girl shouting at the top of her lungs.

He reads. It's his passing time. That one book he found by a bedside about hustlers in streets never came alive like that moment he saw her yelling profanities so fluidly to the skies. It was like a high definition TV turned on in the middle of the woods. She was red in the face. The jugular vein on her neck erect. He guessed her blood pressure was a few points too high right then. He sleeps on that textbook now under his bed; the human biology one. It keeps the cold ground from seeping through the tarp and mattress he managed to find and get in here. The sheets are Ralph Lauren from a house a few years back. He doesn't know they're 500-thread count, and he's sleeping like a king in the woods. It means nothing to him but comfort.

He thinks back, and she looked so alive. He guesses he felt shame for her when she realized she wasn't alone. Empathy oozed from his pores. The next thing he knew, he was opening his mouth and letting it out—

 _"_ _Hello."_

He regrets. He shouldn't have. That is why he sets rules for himself: Never cross paths with anyone along a trail. Never break into a cabin more than three times in a year. Never keep the canoes he uses to transport the necessities across the lake, always take them back. Never take the food offered from doorknobs with notes attached, no contact. Always lock the doors back up and keep them intact.

Now they stare at one another, or she does. He turns his eyes just enough to look at something else.

Bella tries to calm. Her hands are in both of his. They sit, bent knees almost touching, and hand in hand. He's fiercely holding on. He pleads for her to keep quiet.

So, she does. She bites on her trembling lip to force herself. She looks down at the coupling of hands. He slowly lets go.

Quickly, he stands and helps her up. Her joints crack and pop, the scratches begin to burn. She whimpers and holds on to his arm. One leg after the other and she's standing up, close enough to see those blue eyes roam around but never settling on her.

He gingerly walks her to the edge of the woods.

 _Wait. Why?_ She thinks. She looks around. Tarps are up with ties. Trash barrels are multi-functional. Some are tied to trees, others hold a gas stove and gas tanks. Objects hang from clothing lines, even clothes.

She staggers. He tugs on her arm and curls his other one around her back. This is her exit. He's introducing her back to the world where she belongs.

He pushes just gently once they've found a path. He steps back. His hands, palms up, wave her away without a word.

"What? No. Wait," she says. He steps back when she steps close. "You leave me here like this?"

He turns his back on her and does just what she says.

"Who are you? What's your name?" she shouts. She knows it's futile. He won't answer, not with words, not without.

She runs through the last few things she remembers when she fell, when she woke, what she saw.

She checks her head, it's not so bad, but his shirt was ripped and used to hold the blood. She's dumbfounded. How could he leave her like this; alone, bleeding? She looks around, and she doesn't even know where she is.

"Hey! I'll stay right here. I'll stay right here all damned night!" she shouts. "You hear me?"

She goes after him, wherever he went. This way or that. A bolder stands tall down dense areas. _Is that where they walked through?_ She's not sure, but she will find out.

The crack between the boulders is wide enough. She goes through, and it gets narrower. She has to turn her body flat like a pancake to make it to the other side.

Then she does.

"Wow." A murmur through her lips.

Instantly she finds herself on flat land. Trees are cleared out naturally. The space is cozy. It hugs her. That breeze she felt when she woke flows continuously. She takes a deep breath and takes it all in.

But not for long.

The leaves rustle furiously close by. Before she knows it, he's coming out from behind another path they didn't take. He's visibly shaking. His arm comes up, and he points behind her. A thrust that way. His eyes to the ground or her legs, she can't tell.

He points and points again.

"Go," he pushes out. "Go away."

These are too many emotions. Too many for him to manage. It's been years of quiet. It's been years of nothing but the sound of trees moving, the turn of a page from a book, or nothing. Just nothing. So much today. Too much. Adrenaline courses through him and it's too much of a feeling for him to take. Maybe he'll just die.

Bella is speechless for once. She watches this guy crumble to pieces, watching his lips pale. She's sure he'll combust. When she doesn't move, his hands rise up to his head, and he's devastated.

"Go!" he shouts as he points again. This time he gets close, too close. His eyes look to hers for the first time. This fear grips her. Something, her heart or her soul, it tells her to listen.

This guy will self-destruct if she doesn't.

She lifts a hand and says, "All right. I'm … sorry." She steps back and turns away.

When she turns back to look, he's watching, arm still pointing.

Problem now is she knows the way. Well, his problem—her conquest.

…...

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	8. Chapter 8 - They follow

**Chapter 8 - They follow**

Jen slaps Lauren's arm with the back of her hand.

"You know, I really hate when you do that. You always do, and I want to drown you when you do," says Lauren.

Jen points anyway like she always does, ignoring her friend.

Lauren looks. Her head tilts. "Oh," she says like she gets it. She really doesn't. "What am I looking at?"

Jen sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "Bella. She's been staring at the trees for an hour now. Jameson is talking, and she's not listening."

Lauren nods. "Okay. So … what does that mean?"

Jen smirks slyly. "Bitch, it means this whole little cute couple facade will fall off the wagon soon. Meaning, no more lovey-dovey. Meaning, less PDA. Meaning less torture for us to take and watch." She looks over at Lauren. "You catch my drift?" She wiggles her brows.

Lauren is already nodding. Now she gets it. She giggles. She giggles some more. Jen follows and then they're in it, tickled humor, until Lauren stops suddenly like something bit her in the ass. Guilt.

"You think us laughing is wrong? It is wrong, isn't it? Yeah, it is. It totally is. We're horrible. This is horrible."

Then they laugh again.

No one could blame these friends. It's been a rough summer. No new guys came passing their way. The twins from the cabin on the north side are too weird to hang out with. They finish each other's sentences. They wear matching bathing suits until you can't tell which one smiled at you the other day, or which one gave you the stink eye. They share food, sometimes lollipops. The girls don't really know why. It's just too fucking odd.

Ben doesn't think so. He thinks one in each arm would be heaven.

Then there are the younger kids in other cabins who are just not the right age to get it. Too giggly, too childish.

"Come on. Let's go to the swing," says Jen. She struggles with her flip-flop gone upside down with her toes.

Lauren sighs exasperatingly. "Absolutely not. You're nuts. I am not falling for that again."

"What do you mean?"

"Um, that you just go there to stare at Bella's dad. No thanks," says Lauren, rolling her eyes.

Jen grumbles.

Just then, the camp sheriff walks passed them in a rush with other camp guards. Something's happening.

Bella looks up like antennas stick out of her head. Her attention now on the sheriff. She leaves Jameson where he sits, with his words cut short, and takes off behind the man.

The girls look at one another.

Yup, this should be good.

They follow.

Bella's heart is a flutter. It's been so long since that night she fell and met him. He told her to go away to her dismay. She did, but her mind hasn't left the woods.

She lies in bed wishing, hoping he'd break into her cabin so she'll see him. She dreams of weird things like cooking for him. He'd break in, and breakfast would be ready. They'd sit and eat and talk about his life as he sips the coffee she's made for him.

Then she wants to hit herself for conjuring up the dumbest things. She would just like a second chance, a few moments to observe him. To get more words out of him. To get all the mysterious reasons answered. What goes through his mind when he sits there alone? What happens in winter? Is it too cold for him to bear? Does he wish to run to warmth? Does he? Ever? Why, why is he all alone?

She's consumed with wonder.

The break-ins haven't stopped. It's the end of summer, and every time someone announces something else is gone, it's too late. They don't catch up to him. Still, she runs to the cabin to watch, to see any signs.

Like she is now.

The sheriff and crowd following make it to a faraway cabin. She's breathing hard trying to catch up. Jen and Lauren kind of want to quit. They're far behind and can barely see a relentless Bella running to get where the sheriff is.

It takes a few yards until they're standing behind her, breathing heavily. She's looking on, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything that'll pop out of the windows or the door as the sheriff searches the inside.

Jen shudders every time she remembers her bed sheets stained with a handprint when the thief broke in through her window. She can only imagine what's been found in there. Maybe they finally caught him, her, whoever it is. She hopes. She wishes.

"What?" she says to Bella behind her. Bella doesn't answer.

When the sheriff appears empty-handed, Bella visibility relaxes.

"What?" Jen insists.

"Nothing." Bella sighs. "I just thought …" she doubles over to breathe.

"Nope. They didn't catch him. Unfortunately. Fucking hermits and their bullshit." Jen rolls her eyes.

They march back with a quiet Bella at their side. They wonder why. Maybe her mom and dad are still pissed about the chickens? They figure they're still stuck on that. Many people are about their stuff being gone.

They don't ask her.

All they know is, this summer sure has been a drag. In a few days, everyone will pick up and leave. They'll head back home and wait for the school year to begin.

No one is happy.

No one.

…..


	9. Chapter 9 - Purple Room

**Chapter 9 - Purple Room**

Edward hasn't felt right after the fallen girl. He hasn't been as calm or settled. He walks around in circles in the space he's made for himself since he was twenty.

No one has ever invaded. Only bugs, snow, and cold. So much cold.

He barely remembers life before. He barely remembers his own age. There's no time here. No way to connect and that was the one thing he sought after for a long time. This is what he wanted, to be away and be under the stars. But even that sounds romantic. He just wanted calm.

Being himself around others wasn't easy. Being around others was effort. His family was all right, his brothers the same, but not school, and not work—those made him question the validity of purpose. What was the point of it all? Everyone moving, working every day for things. Have a car, a house, kids, a wife—empty aspirations. Nothing's real or genuine. Living a life built by a twisted, broken society. Have these things or live on a sidewalk. Be better. Be smarter. Network. Know important people. Get the next promotion. More money. More worries. More bills, less time to find self. Work more to get more.

He knows he's not perfect. He sins. He takes and takes from others. He figured out weeks into isolation that it's impossible not to depend on humans, to truly and absolutely be alone. There's always something you'll need from someone. For him, it was food. But he couldn't, he still cannot find a way to live a life like others. He doesn't have a plan or path. It's not for him. What he wanted was to get lost, and not find anything, not even himself. He stepped into the woods, roamed around until he found himself lost. That was fine with him.

He left work one day, the day he decided to seek … something. He couldn't put it into words. He drove and drove right past his apartment in Massachusetts. He went to a college there and got an electrician certificate. Some of his brothers also did. Five boys and one girl, the youngest, with health complications. She's the one who stayed with Mom and Dad.

When they were still all living under one roof, life was so quiet in the Cullen house in rural Maine, it was like a library. Nights after grade school were spent reading, Mom and Dad in their rocking chairs, books on shelves everywhere in their two-story farmhouse. Dinner was made on a wood stove with firewood they split themselves, food they tilled with a tractor on a two-acre garden; Potatoes, beans, corn, and pumpkins. They'd hunt moose or deer. A black, bearskin lay on the bedroom floor of his parent's room, evidence of his father's precise aim.

They kept to themselves. They were reserved. Not even neighbors knew much of them for years, never saying a hello or a good morning.

They weren't the most affectionate family, but they were the brightest. What they needed, they build with their hands. Dad expected a lot from the boys, and they all served up to that expectation. He wanted them tough, not strong. He wanted them clever, not intelligent. That's what they were.

That's what Edward still is.

He found himself living in Massachusetts after school, working as a home and car alarm system tech. He drove around in a white 1985 Subaru Brat. And with that Brat, he drove away, never leaving word at his job or returning his tools.

He headed nowhere in particular.

He left it behind and drove south until he hit Florida. He slept in his car and old motels, ate take out or in desolate diners. Then, when he was bored with that, he drove back through the woods of Maine, passed his childhood house, up to the woods, until the road wasn't paved.

He got out of the car, tossed the keys on the console, and left it there. That was the only plan thus far. From that moment on, he didn't have one … and that felt exhilarating.

He never had to speak a word, just be. Him and his own thoughts. No effort. Just quiet and peace. That's all he needed, to get lost.

But this girl … she came and left her hair stuck to his pillow. The fibers soaked up her clean skin.

She lingers.

What if she tells someone? He's afraid, terrified. This can't be ruined.

He didn't leave for weeks after she left. He'd hear the hikers and raffish campsite residents splashing in the lake. Conversations and secrets between some as they passed by. He hears everything, even things about himself; his ears grown sharp. They always have something to say about the hermit living in the woods—a ridiculous name. Labels; they're what people need to make sense of things they don't understand. He knows what they say, but they don't know he's there to listen.

He was hungry. The hot dogs were gone, and he had to go hunting for food to his dismay. Winter will come, and he'll need all the supplies he can get.

This time, he'll try the cabin with the swing by the yard. He hasn't been back by all summer, not since he stole the chickens.

He hides. He stakes out. The cabin should be empty by now. The owners leave midday to sunbathe at the shore. He knows the patterns. He lifts that rock and grabs the single key he put there.

The cabins always smell different when there are people living in them. His stomach growls because what he smells is something delicious. He knows that whatever he takes from this cabin always tastes so good. He aims straight for the kitchen. He fills up his bag and looks around. Batteries, he needs batteries. He knows the hallway cupboard is where they keep the extras. Creatures of habit.

But he doesn't know one thing; This house belongs to the girl, the fallen one.

He rummages. Once he's found what he's looking for, he looks up. Face to face, he stands staring at her dark chocolate locks. Her smile is frozen in the frame on the walls, pearly whites he can't recall. He remembers then he's almost out of toothpaste and shaving cream. But the feel of her hair over his elbow in waves as he carried her, that he won't forget.

He can barely believe his eyes. This feeling comes to him; envy. She belongs here. She knows her place here. She has meals here, the delicious food he's partial to when he goes hunting. She's fortunate. This life, outlined and all hers. So simple.

Then he has a better idea. She barged into his personal space, maybe he should do the same to hers.

He walks around determined and knows where that purple room is. He just never knew it was hers. He'd keep away, any female-looking room he'd mainly keep away. He never crawled back into that other room with girl things on a vanity, not ever again. It just feels wrong.

He pushes through the door, and it squeaks. Like an avalanche, her scent rolls over him. He remembers, it consumes him.

He stays at the threshold, never stepping in. Her small little bed is unmade. Her clothes are scattered here and there. Female things sit at her bedside, spilling out of a drawer; Nail polishes, bracelets, and earrings—all her jovial delicate things. Her life. So simple.

He huffs. He's so upset. This girl in his life now. He'd take all the things she loves just to make her feel the same as he does. Maybe he should break her innocent, little heart.

He remembers her cursing at the top of her lungs. _No_. Not innocent. She's not delicate at all. All this purple isn't her. She's a gray. She's a forest-green with moss growing around the edges. She's like the children of the forest in that book he took once; _A Song of Ice and Fire_. Then he went back to get the rest off the shelf from another cabin. That was the best winter he ever had.

He steps in and quickly takes her book this time, the one on her bedside—red and yellow on the cover. He doesn't know much about tastes or what individuals like, but it seems odd that a girl like her would be partial to themes like these. He doesn't bother deciphering the reasons. He takes.

She, too, has framed photos on her walls. There's one of her and a boy her age. They hug closely. His hand peeks from around her hip. He looks into the camera, and she looks at him. A warm smile on her face. So oblivious. So unaware. Especially of the intruder in the far back of the photograph where Edward stands in the shadows, tucked in the woods over the girl's shoulder.

There he is. Like a ghost. Everyone looks for him, yet he's in plain sight.

He gets closer to see. He drops his eyeglasses back into place from over his head. His stomach is in knots at the realization. In the image, his eyes are vacant. He stands behind a tree, but barely hiding. He hasn't seen a reflection of himself in years.

Is it him? It has to be.

He remembers waiting for the family to clear out so he can use the spare key he found and find supplies. He waited a long time. Now, he'll forever be exposed on a photograph in a girl's room, part of her life. The fallen one at that.

He can't. He won't touch it. Rules are never to take things he doesn't need.

So he leaves.

…..


	10. Chapter 10 - Winter

**Chapter 10 – Winter**

The cabins have long cleared out. It gets darker sooner during the evenings. The woods are silent but for the sounds of deer moving over dry leaves, crunching like cornflakes. Ducks dunk their heads into the surface of the water, taking their last swim before they must move on. Snow will inevitably come.

Even the mosquitoes leave him; they go and find something juicier to suckle. His blood is warm, but his skin is dry and cold to the bones. His hair grows, his beard does, too. He lets the body do what it's made to do. He's a bear settling in under layers, finding his place in a cave to find slumber.

Yet, not a cave. Edward never sleeps inside anywhere, never in a cabin. The coldest winters are known to be in Maine, yet Edward spends his nights under the makeshift tent he built from things he's borrowed. Not even the cabin, coincidentally three minutes away, has been occupied by his presence on the most coldest of days.

He's where he's supposed to be.

He finds no reason to leave.

If scavenging for food is hard work during hot summers, spring, and autumn, keeping alive during the winter is arduous. If he must stay, then he must follow a whole new set of responsibilities.

The digital thermostat he hooked up hangs in his tent, and every evening at 7 PM, he settles into bed. At 2 AM, when the frost is biting at his toes, he awakes. Pacing around the camp goes on for hours to warm up his limbs. No fire does this. Because anything that could jeopardize his secret is on the strict list.

He shovels snow to clear the paths, and when it snows mighty blizzards, the mounds stack up like giant walls around his camp. A single hole, warmed and plucked out from the middle of the woods is thawed. By morning, the collection of snow he's worked to put together during the early hours provides him with water for the rest of the day. He drinks and bathes in clear, cold water melted straight from snowflakes. Nothing is as pure and fresh to his liking.

And so the pattern begins again the next night. It's tedious, the struggle. Slipping away in his sleep would be easy. The reward of seeing the break of day is greater.

Nothing is as calming as the quiet in cold, blue winters. It's all worth it.

However, this winter is different. On this particular one, he thinks and thinks about a summer past that began with a _hello_ , and ended with an incorrigible fallen girl. She takes up his thoughts. Thoughts that should be free to flow. Routine, maybe, not the audacity of chocolate locks and amber eyes.

Maybe he'll cave. He debates strongly with himself. Either pick up and leave, or let the Lady of the Woods lead him away ... this time for good.

Then spring comes, bringing wild turkeys and the sounds of chirping frogs.

He never quite made a decision.

….


	11. Chapter 11 - White Bag

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 - White bag**

Everything that crawls or shuffles around his camp he knows about. Squirrels bounding up a tree, he knows. Leaves whirling in the wind, he knows. An eagle flying by up high, he knows. Even the subtle squeaks of the mice crawling around his boots he knows well.

He's sitting on a crate, his palms submerged in cold water in a bucket. He's ready to splash it over his drowsy face, but he stops. The crunch of leaves by the boulder is new. He doesn't know that.

In just a split second, things go from calm to despair. He thinks this is it. It's over. He's found. All he sees is a crisp, white, plastic bag left at the edge of the camp. It's round, bulging with contents.

Then the sound of leaves become farther away, but still obvious, as whoever left the gift makes their way back out.

He stands.

He follows.

His steps are planned, zig-zagging, not even a twig is cracked when he walks.

Chocolate brown sways as she frantically makes her way out. As hastily as mice scattering when he thumps the ground to scare them off. She's a mouse, but a slow one.

Bella's heart may come out of her chest. She shouldn't have come. She shouldn't have planned a bag just for him and left it there. She should've stayed away.

She doesn't turn. She won't look. Maybe if she doesn't, she can pretend he's not mere inches from her back, towering over her.

She takes a step, so does he. She quits frantically trying to run away. Now she takes hesitant steps on shaking knees.

His shoulder brushes by hers. He turns his back to her, and takes the lead, because she's reckless. Her steps are sloppy. He has the random patterns he takes memorized. Not one leaves a trace. Not one leads back to his campsite.

They make it to a familiar trail, and that's where he leaves her.

He leans down by her ear and says, "Don't come back." His breath heavy and angry. Bella's is labored, caught in her throat.

She slowly makes it all the way back home barely blinking, never once looking over her shoulder.

But she thinks, maybe the loaf, eggs, and bacon among other cans she left in the bag will lighten his spirits.

Because tomorrow she's coming back.

…


	12. Chapter 12 - A Hammer

**Chapter 12 - A hammer**

He turns off the radio. He turns his ear. His chewing comes to a stop.

He woke up this morning and made himself breakfast he hasn't had … well, since he can't remember. Eggs, the last of the bacon, and even bread with some cubes of butter he begrudgingly found in the bag.

He finishes chewing. His shoulders hunch over a little more. A sigh pushes out of him.

He doesn't have to look. He can hear the stampede coming in hot.

She's back.

This worry in him. The pit of his stomach opens up and tears at him. This won't stop, will it?

He waits it out. Maybe if he's quiet enough, she'll leave.

When he turns to look, he was right. She's not there, but another white bag is.

He guesses he'll go look and see what's for lunch and supper today. Hell, he might even like it.

The next day it rains. It pelts. He sees and feels the signs. This summer won't be like any other. It won't burn as hot, and he won't be … as alone as he thought.

She doesn't come. He's glad. He wishes it would rain and thunder every day. It's when he does his best break-ins. The pit in his stomach eases, at least for the day.

He eats the last of the eggs and leaves the chicken salad with greens for lunch. The packaged steak with a frozen bag of vegetables he found in the second bag he'll leave for supper.

He turns the radio up in his earphones and prays the fat drops would flood the place up for any coming intruders.

He doesn't know Bella is getting the hang of this. Every time she makes the trip up the secret path she finds another way around it. She knows she has to be careful.

Before anyone is up, she gets the bag and slides into her shoes. The anticipation has kept her from sleep since the day they got back.

She hasn't even seen the girls around the camp yet. She willingly came early with Dad, telling him she just wanted a head start on summer school readings she has to do. He bought it. He sleeps in, and she has all the time for these mischievous things.

All year she worried and fretted over this. She wasn't calm. Her schoolwork suffered. She stared far too long out of windows or at walls. On the coldest day in winter, she was the most distracted.

What must he be doing? How does he keep warm? Where does he sleep on nights like this?

The year is long, so eventually she adjusted, but that painful pang in her gut stopped her enough to think and think again. She began to make plans.

This was the start of her conquest. No matter how aggressive he seemed, she'd find ways around him. What was he going to do, kick her out of a free, open, public space? He couldn't. She could set camp right by him, and he couldn't protest.

So the next day, she heads back, white bag in hand, her sneakers well laced. Even if her stomach twists she would brave another trip, and this time, stay … for a little while.

The boulder becomes her entrance. She wanted to create a habit. She'd only come in through the cracks to announce her arrival. And she noticed his back flexing, his shoulders tensing knowing she's there without even looking.

He turns an eye, and to his surprise, she stayed. Bella sits on a rock staring at the ground, and she waits. For something to happen. She figures patience is a virtue for a specific guy like him.

He turns off the radio, makes his bed, takes his time doing that. She stares. He washes up what he used; a pan, utensils, one plate. He takes out the trash, a hole in the ground far beyond the tent.

Bella leans over to get a glimpse. The soft ground turned over, so many old gas tanks for grilling are buried. She wonders. He never returns a thing. She nods to herself. It makes sense.

Her eyes wander. Up above. She follows the tree lines, the branches. He tied the tent and tools to trees; everything has its place, nothing wasted. But she sees, she squints. Some things have been tied so long they fused to the tree branches.

Her lips part. She glances, but he's still out of sight. She goes to take a closer look. Her fingers run over the bark. Like slow molasses has rolled over the edges, the hammer is fused. It ironically needs a hammer to be dug out.

This is insane. This is … she can't put it into words. If legend is true, and these camps have been plagued by theft all these years, then it's true—he's been here.

But how long?

Oh, she itches to ask. To ask everything. She takes a breath instead and the bag she brought. Guts and bravery. She gets closer.

Slowly, she sets it on a crate by the small gas stove people use for camping. It feels so homey, cozy. The tongs, the metal spoons hang from a rope just above. A barrel is tied high to keep things away from animals. A molded, but sunk-in bin is his chair when he cooks the long meals. She can just picture him.

She glances behind her, and there's the pit of darkness where the bed is in the tent. She blinks. He has a box spring and railings, too? A double take. Crisp white sheets hang neatly and tucked in, a blanket is folded and spread on the foot of the bed.

Oh, how she itches to go in. She takes another step, and it's like her body moves without her consent. Her breath is caught. She's yanked back.

"I have food," he exclaims. Bella is looking up. She gets lost. Her wide eyes take in a pair she remembers so clear and blue, even as they look elsewhere. His neck is exposed above his crew neck thermal that might be a size too small. She guesses he takes what he can get, because it hugs him.

"Your … beard," she says dumbly. It's long, puffy, and groomed. It intrigues her.

He pulls her. He leads her toward … out. She needs to be out.

Bella can barely keep her feet from dragging.

"Hey!" she shouts.

He stops. That was far too loud for his comfort.

"In here, just like out there, it's rude, _and it hurts_." She argues. She tugs to get her hand back.

He lets go.

He charges past her, and he roughly digs into a patched up hole like a maniac. He shows her. Arm fulls. Packages and boxes of brightly colored typography on graphics alike.

"I have food!" He growls.

She stares. Her brows knit. "Junk is what you've got."

He gets so angry. He slaps the cartons on the ground and walks away to pace. Bella just takes the chance to look. She could stand in the hole, and she'd fit. It goes deep with all sorts of chemically made, dyes added, saturated fat foods full of sugar. Not so bad that a few aren't in her own pantry. She does sneak a snack or two every day. But there are no greens or anything fresh. Why would there be? They're not options he'd find. She hasn't seen animals for hunting anywhere. And the guy has one hammer that could possibly do harm, and look where that's wedged.

Bella sighs. She grabs her bag and pulls out what she brought. One Tupperware at a time is placed on a bin she guesses is his countertop. She even brought frozen bricks to keep what needs to keep cold, and thermal bags to keep what should be warm.

"I made stew. It was cold yesterday. I'm sure you could use something warm. So …" she trails off. She wanders to the opposite side of the camp, where he's not. She scratches her head, let's her arms flail at her sides. "I'll pick up the bowls tomorrow."

Quickly, Edward catches up to her. She feels his advance, and she braces herself, but she won't run. He simply leads the way. No words. So eager. Anything to get her out.

She observes him as he weaves through a different path. She learns and mimics all his footsteps. The muscles in his back, his hair in neat chaos. How is it that a man living in the woods looks and smells so clean? She doesn't know. It boggles her. But then again, she's sure she'll witness the mystery of how that's done.

She can hardly wait.

….


	13. Chapter 13 - A Promise

**Chapter 13 - A promise**

Keeping to her word, Bella arrives nervous as ever. She took her time. Makes him wait a little. She immediately gauges his demeanor to see if he missed her at all. Any given day or circumstance she'd chuckle at this.

He detests her.

Well, she accepts the challenge. Scary or not.

She takes the initiative and unpacks the meals for the day. She added two Budweiser's to get in his good graces. In those long lists of missing things at the center, she remembered his poison.

This will be a silent day. Yesterday wasn't a good one, so she brought reading material. She pulls off her shoulder a beach chair and unfolds it. Her backpack leans by the tree with that mushroom growing from it. She steps back. Her own little spot under her favorite hammer.

Perfect.

He marches toward her. She closes her eyes and braces. The ruckus of a chair being flung across the camp and at a tree doesn't even need sight for her to know.

 _"_ _Well, that's that,"_ she thinks. She calmly gets it back and sits this time. Emily Dickinson in her hands, one of the readings for the summer. She licks her finger and flicks the page.

He looks murderous.

Maybe she won't do that.

She fans the pages and folds them quietly. He hides in his tent the entire morning.

She can see him a little, though. She looks up once in a while when the back of her book is burning with a heated stare.

He eventually pulls out a book. It's familiar. Bella tilts her head. She squints. Yup. That was hers. The bookmarker is the same. She's been looking for that book everywhere. He looks faintly smug.

Her eyes narrow.

Oh, she can play.

She packs up then. This is basically the hour the campsite back home comes alive. Jameson will pick her up to go to the lake, and the girls will be ready to tag along.

"Tomorrow, I'll ask you your name. If you answer, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the week. That's a promise," she says by the tarps covering the tent.

Bella has plans.

…

* * *

 **A/N: I'd love to answer questions. Let me know!**


	14. Chapter 14 - That Blade

**Chapter 14 - That blade**

The next morning she unpacks her chair. The camp is silent. There's no activity. But then she hears water, a slight splash. She leans to the side. Oh, there he is, behind the tent.

She swallows thickly and delves her nose into her book.

It's like she unpacked to watch a show. It just looks wrong. She rolls her eyes at herself. She quickly stands and does … something—unpacks and packs up the used Tupperware. The bowls were cleaned out. She swaps them with the new ones. Yeah. She'll do that.

She doesn't know where he's found a polo shirt, an Armani belt, and jeans to go together. Probably the summer houses around here? Either way, he's not wearing the shirt yet.

Bella turns in circles when she sees him coming. She hop-skips to her chair, slides in and up goes the book.

He stops to look her way. His back heaves with a sigh, fists grip and tighten. He walks past, and for someone who eats the way he does, he's quite fit. Thin, but the type that looks like he's been through a winter storm and survived. Quite literally. Maybe it's the hiking, maybe the times he's gone running like hell after he steals. Who the hell knows. His abs ripple just enough to show he withholds yelling every time she's around.

He flicks a towel from around his neck and sits on a crate. The blade he pulls out of … somewhere is bulky but short. He tests the sharpness with a thumb. For a little while, he sharpens the blade with a rock he probably keeps just for that.

She watches.

His pecs tense with each pass, and so do his forearms.

Bella thinks Jameson sure doesn't have impressive features like that. She almost scoffs at herself loudly. But all she does is clear her throat enough to get the silence from drowning her.

He lifts that blade, and all internal dialogue ceases. Bella sees him aligning it to his neck. She sucks in a breath. Just when he takes a good grip of his beard, he looks at her for just this instant. He flicks his wrist.

Bella's taken aback.

She doesn't know what to think, let alone feel. Soon enough, her book is forgotten on her lap, and she watches as this stranger threatens her. This is what he would do to her. Slice her right up. It would be so easy. She's defenseless. She's a nosy child who walked into this defiantly. If she had done this out there, a cop would take her away. So what gives her the right here?

He looks away to catch his reflection from a pot. He takes hold of more beard and slices off the longer pieces. He moves to his hair; by his ears, the back—unceremoniously and roughly. When he's done, he takes a razor to his jaw while Bella sits back to watch ... transfixed. Layers and layers peel away to show more of who he is.

"That's unfortunate," Bella whispers to herself with a huff. She turns the page; it's the same one for the last half hour. She was quite partial to the beard. It made him look … ancient, barbaric. She likes the latter.

Mosquitoes buzz and sting. She slaps at her neck and flicks at her ears. She sighs where she sits, wondering how the hell he survives like this.

Edward sees her frustration and discomfort. He simply pulls out a can of repellent and sprays around himself like he just remembered.

Bella scoffs. _So that's how._

The solution was always simple. No elaborate plan. She'd laugh if this wasn't so ridiculous and he'd shared some with her.

He's up and pulling on the dark polo like he's going shopping at the mall. It's true, just not actually in one. Five-finger discounts.

Bella blinks. He looks … he looks different. She doesn't know he does this to seem regular when he's … shopping. No one looks twice at a clean-shaven, well-dressed man walking around the premises.

"Leave," he says without looking her way. He has things to do, he has to work, and the summer is young and new. She stares. He tucks in his shirt and runs a hand through his damp hair.

"What's your name? Both names, including middle," she requests instead of leaving.

He sighs loudly. He runs a hand over his freshly shaven face. He's younger now.

She gets up, and she packs.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." She leaves him with that.

It takes a long moment. With each step, her heart sinks. She'll lose him. She doesn't have plan B.

The moment she feels him near, she slows. She breathes. He always takes the lead, and she lets him. Neurotic. But really, there are rules to his kingdom.

"There's a Cullen, an Edward, and an Anthony." He says this in the middle of a trail that leads home; hers. He doesn't know it leads to his also.

She smiles when he's not looking.

It worked.

Now for next week, she'll ask a question a day and see how that goes.

…..


	15. Chapter 15 - He Floats

**Chapter 15 - He floats**

 _Anthony Cullen Edward. No. Cullen Edward Anthony? Anthony. Anthony._

She tilts her head and tastes a tongue to hers. She curls her lips and pops off his. Jameson comes in for a finishing peck and stands to jump into the lake.

 _Edward Anthony._ _Edward. It has to be ..._

All the while she thinks. She lies on the dock staring up at the sky through shades. Images behind her lids are always of the stranger … or _Edward. No, Anthony. Maybe._

Lauren has invited someone for the summer. Bella listened to all the splashing earlier, Jen beside her watching. Maybe a little put off. Jen rolled her eyes the entire time behind her shades. Now Bella and Jameson are alone because Jen stormed off to do something, and Lauren left hand in hand with Riley.

Bella knows a secret. Well, she knows a big one and that one is probably sitting in a tent now. But she knows one of Jen and Riley … once upon a time. Riley was her first kiss at that birthday party in middle school. He moved away, came back, but came back as this obnoxious, Ivy League alum this coming fall.

"How … awesome," Jen said flatly when they sat around the pit last night. Lauren smiled the entire time at Riley. Poor girl has always been a little bit lost, never really getting it. Not even the very obvious sarcasm from Jen. "Now you can actually pay for your education by screwing every co-ed roommate," she finished telling him. Riley's jaw sharpened. Lauren's dropped, and she laughed. Clueless.

That leaves Bella and Jameson more alone time.

It's fine. They need it. Bella is otherwise occupied with her time and Jameson is starting at Boston University and already prepping with books. His goal; medical school.

Bella's goal; to break Cullen. _Yeah. Cullen._

She can't decide next year where she'll apply. Maybe a handful and see how it works out. She wants to work with people. That, she knows.

That feeling grapples again. The one that tells her there's someone watching.

She turns her head slightly and basks in it.

No one is around but James floating on his back. It's almost supper, but the sun is high up and stinging. He smiles from his spot. His fingers beckon her inside. She grins, and maybe she should give him a show.

 _Cullen_ , not her boyfriend.

She splashes in without a stitch of clothing.

That night, in the early hours after midnight, the temperature is still high and sticky. It doesn't let up. Edward takes his time walking to the shore. Beads of sweat trickle down his back and neck. He welcomes it. This is better than praying for warmth in the dead of winter.

He did so much tonight. Maybe the adrenaline from frustration, or the sight of skin she revealed; the dip of her back, the curves of her legs. He doesn't know. But he's here, cooling down, standing just where she laid on the dock.

He pulls off the polo, then the belt he grabbed from a closet to keep the loose pants on. They grow big during winters. He drops those along with his underwear.

The moon barely brightens the still waters, but it's enough for him. He needs but a slight glow to see and know where he is.

He floats, stretches out his tired limbs. Everyone assumes this is best to do when the sun is high. He disagrees. He looks up; the stars are so big and bright, every constellation watches him from above.

Eventually, unbeknownst to him, he drifts toward the very spot Bella swayed her arms wide and thought of him. The water warmly cradled them both the same.

….


	16. Chapter 16 - Twenty-Seven

**A/N: Hearts for your reactions. Ask away, I love to talk about this man and answer questions.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 16 - Twenty-Seven**

"So how long has it been?" Bella asks. She sits on a crate. She just came today and brought no chair but her determination and Tupperware. She's antsy. All weekend she turned his names in her head and couldn't stop thinking of him here alone.

Silence. He's fiddling with a battery doing … something. She can't tell what exactly. He does seem to know what he's doing. Split wires here and there, he twists and turns them.

"Where did you get that? Is it from a boat?"

She looks at him. She waits. The speckles over his jaw is probably her favorite look so far. Hell, all of him is intriguing.

She changes the subject. "So, those home security systems are pretty damn tech fancy. How do you get around them?" she asks.

She chuckles a little, thinking. She lounges back against a tree. "This guy around here was red in the face. You should've seen him. He's the one with the big house up north. I'm sure you've—" she pauses to look at him.

She clears her throat.

"Anyway, he's neurotic. He bought this state of the art system. It covers all of the house. A slight whisper and it would set it off. Just, anything you can think of. Then, he comes to the town meeting, and he's complaining about his missing sugar bowl." Bella snorts remembering, her shoulders get going, wiggling her tank top.

She sobers and stares at the ground in thought. "How did you break into that?"

Edward takes a breath. "I didn't. He forgot to activate it. The doors were unlocked. I installed it correctly before I left."

Bella folds in half to snort in her hands. She breaks into laughter.

This campsite has never seen emotion like this. This here, is for solitaire. Edward glances at her. He watches the motions of carefree silliness. He bites on his lip to keep from blushing.

He made her laugh.

He knows who she refers to, that owner. He has a big house and has no idea what he's doing with it. He usually takes out the SIM cards and the systems shut down, or he messes with the wiring. It's simple, really. He knows. He used to install them at his first job. Then he'd turn them back on before leaving. Clean.

Bella slowly finds composure. When she's wiping at tears from her eyes, she sits back to bask in the fact that he answered.

They settle into this silence again, but it's eased a bit. They both feel it.

"Cullen," she calls softly. "How long?"

He finishes with the new loaded battery, ready to be hooked to the radio for news and worldly updates he's still curious about. It'll keep him occupied until he needs a new one. He picks it up to move it elsewhere.

"I can't remember much anymore," he murmurs.

Bella tries not to breathe so she won't ruin the atmosphere. A portal has opened. She walks swiftly through it. Her lips part. "Well, then let's think back," she says swallowing thickly. "When did you get here?"

He's quiet for a moment. He's wiping the grease off the battery with a cloth, a ripped T-shirt, but he's thinking. He looks up from over the rims of his glasses to the trees and says, "I was twenty. It's Summer now. So, I guess I'm twenty-seven."

Seven years. Bella is speechless.

It gets quiet after that. She watches him as he settles with that thought. Solitude for seven whole years. And he's loved every second of it. This is his camp. No one has claimed it, but him.

 _Lord of the woods._

Bella dares not to interrupt this trance he seems to slip into, so she slips away. The next day she sits on the same crate and settles into the same routine of budging him open like a tightly twisted jar of goodness. It takes time. Hours. But the result is wonderous.

"Why?" she asks this time. That's the first word she says since she arrived at eight a.m. All morning she watched him wash his clothes. A bright blue detergent bottle leaned on a rock standing out against the wooded backdrop. He crouched to scrub over a flat bolder forged just for this purpose. His purpose. Everything is just as it should be for him.

He pulls on sweat from his forehead with his sleeve once a clothespin clamps on a shoulder seam. His forearms exposed around a plaid button up. She's never seen Dad lift a laundry hamper, let alone wash clothes like the olden days when there were no washing machines, and grandmothers sang hymns while scrubbing at a river somewhere.

It … amazes, attracts.

If she's here, she might as well help. She grabs a T-shirt and socks.

He grunts a bit like he's getting ready to speak, and she gets ready to be stricken by his response she craves.

"Well, you like it here." He begins answering the why. "Summer comes, you pack your little, purple things with the idea of escape from routine. Maybe you'd even say something romantic like, escape from the world, or to be in nature."

Bella smiles at the pinned shirt in her hands. She tugs at it to keep from looking at him with red cheeks.

"I guess I thought the same back then," he continues. "I wanted nothing, in all sense. I got lost in these woods, and I didn't care. So I kept going."

Bella purses her lips. "But … don't you get lonely, bored out here?"

"No," he simply says. It's not rude or ominous. It's honest. No additives or flourishes, nothing like the food he hides and eats. Silk and intellect come from that mouth that consumes those necessities.

She's … amazed, so very attracted.

Her heart still beats loudly in bed that night remembering. Suddenly, she finds herself doubting all things around her. The things everyone takes for granted. The things we think make us happy. This pit in her stomach. A new need blossoms there to fill it; what is it like to have a satisfied life? Many go a whole lifetime and never find it; happiness.

He has. He tried to keep it to himself, but there's one thing a hermit can't seek and find in complete and utter solitude. You always need help. His conflict is food. She bets if it wasn't a necessity, he'd never leave that clearing.

Sam was right; some people shouldn't be bothered. And she feels terrible. She should grant this man's wish, but now she can't let go. She's torn.

Every morning she goes back to his, and her dismay. She wants to document every answer to her questions to then look them up one day.

"Do you have a family?"

"Like a mother and father?"

Bella nods. He nods after.

"Do they know where you are?"

"No." He says this plainly.

"They might have looked for you," Bella says with a tilt to her head. His reaction doesn't change.

He shrugs. "Maybe my brothers did."

 _Brothers_. More for her to document.

"Would they be … heartbroken, miss you?"

His mouth turns down into a quick frown like he's not sure. "Maybe. But we all kept to ourselves a lot. We all knew we'd live life separate, move away. My family wasn't ever the kind that keeps close. We find our interests and aim for that." Then he pauses to think. "Maybe my mother would be if she's still alive."

Bella is awed. To think that there are people out there he knows, yet he doesn't strive to be with them or let them know he's well. His need to be alone is ad nauseam.

It's exceedingly hot today. They sit like this by his tent to think on the answers. Maybe she'll leave for the day and hop into the lake to cool down.

"It's hot today. We have a very big lake out there," Bella says.

His lips quirk. "You're insinuating I don't partake?"

Bella shrugs this time.

"You're just not awake," he continues. "You're in your warm bed, in your purple heaven while I enjoy a cool lake at night."

She smiles. "Oh, really? Doesn't it get … creepy? Dark water sounds numbing."

"If you ask me, visitors have it all wrong. At night you see the stars, and if you're lucky, the northern lights appear."

She hides a flustered grin. He swims at night. What she wouldn't give to see that.

The next day she asks about his psyche. What really happens in that brain? "Did you ever talk to yourself out loud?" He actually looks at her. His brows knit. Bella bites on her lip. _Too forward?_

"You mean like a hermit would?" He looks over the trees, rolling his eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Not even write any thoughts down? Ever?" She adds.

"You're just trying to question my sanity. Normal human behaviors, right?" Bella's shoulders cave a little as she grows a bit pink. "People write because they want an audience, to connect with. It's reaching out."

And that's what he doesn't want or need. Bella remains silent. She wouldn't know how to live if someone wasn't listening.

….


	17. Chapter 17 - Fireflies

**A/N: Exciting to read your reactions. Thanks for reading! xoxo. This man truly is unapologetic about what he is, and he marches to the beat of his own drum. Maybe Bella is the weird one lol.**

* * *

 **Chapter 17 - Fireflies**

The Fourth of July comes quickly. All month, Bella visited Edward, but she's also given him time to himself. When she is there, she asks all the questions that come to mind. Some he never answered, but the few he did, she wrote them down furiously in her room. She's eager. With all the information she's gleaned, she'll begin a search, the breadcrumbs of his past life. It's all she wants to do during the winter.

Just the thought that he's seen her purple room surprised her with wondrous feelings, nowhere near odd ones. It's a shared knowledge now; his space and hers. She makes sure to hide the notes of mysteries well, just in case.

For now, Bella and the crew find the thrill of each other's company. The night of Independence Day, they gather around the fire pit to drink beers they had snuck in coolers or inside soft drink bottles and make their fingers sticky with marshmallows by the fire.

Ben strums the guitar and the twins from the north cabin giggle. He loves the attention, especially when one of them slaps the other's hand off his arm to replace it with hers.

Jen is her brooding, angry self as she tilts her head back toward the starlit sky to chug on a bottle. Bella pulls it out of her hand to keep it a good yard away. Jen's eyes derail from staring at Lauren and her stupid Riley ... it's more than she can stomach. That couple can't keep from whispering to themselves and cozying up just a little bit closer.

Bella rolls her eyes. If she had the choice, she would be with Edward now.

 _Yeah, Edward. That fits him._

Every moment she's curious to know what he's doing. She's surprised she finds herself missing him when she's far. She laughs to herself because that's the last thing he'd ever feel when she's not around. She doesn't care. She's hooked and headlong. Her secret is just too overwhelmingly thrilling.

She looks around, everyone having and living life, all while a stranger isolates himself in a space he's kept for so many years. It makes the world feel big to her. The thought that so many oddities occur in their midst and they have no idea what they are or what they mean.

She holds this secret with her, and at times feels like she might burst. She could yell at the top of her lungs for the world to stop and know that there is more, so much more out there than these silly arguments about boyfriends, girlfriends, applications, and prom.

She wants to go and search the ends of the earth and find people like Edward to know how their insides work and why. She wants to _do_ for him, not for herself. She wants more than this group of silly kids who think this is what life is all about.

The town continues to talk. Every day there are new signs, new clues to find this mysterious person who takes. And all the while, Bella keeps her entire being silent. She warns him of plans, and he keeps away.

She looks over at Jameson. He's gentle. Kind. He doesn't deserve this. He glances at her and smiles at Ben's antics. He's oblivious. He doesn't know he sits by a girl who has plans. Who's dying inside to be with someone else. He doesn't know he's losing her just incrementally.

But their shoulders meet anyway. Smiles come softly, as does his embrace when he tucks her in closely. She watches him now and feels this guilt. She says nothing. He doesn't seem to notice enough to ask. Their coupling isn't the latest news in school anymore; marriage status equals boring.

But they eye one another. He's thinking how he'll be so far away at college and still keep up with her. Should he? He doesn't know. He loves her. That's all he knows. House. Kids. Family. He'd offer it all. Medical school is what keeps his stomach in butterflies. He wonders when the feeling she put there was replaced with a focused career choice. It has to mean something.

She's thinking of nothing but Edward.

They don't know they'll soon grow up quickly, make hard decisions they never thought they'd need to make at their age. And everything that is perfect at this moment will change.

Simultaneously they look away and take a sip of their drink. Their thoughts lost in _what ifs._

Fireworks blaze the sky. Everyone is animated and loud. Partly because of the colors, but mostly because handling and buying fireworks is legal in this state. The guys have a field day setting up runs and shopping for the perfect ones to show off. Some hardcore fans hand make them.

Bella shuffles to her mother's side not really interested. Like magnets, they lean into one another, heads tilted inward, and they watch the colorful fire as they sit on beach chairs.

Renee hasn't been feeling her regular self these days. Maybe that's why she hasn't been on Bella's ass about her odd behavior. Never has she encountered Bella waking up early on summer days. Her schedule is sleep until noon and saunter out to plop herself at the kitchen table and hold her head for an hour. Definitely hungover. Renee speaks especially loud those days and loves it.

Now she notices Bella prepping food in Tupperware and waking up before her own mother decides to roll out of bed. Bella's room is tidy and neat, bed made and clothes put away.

Renee suspects it isn't for Jameson. His mother cooks him anything he wants. It just doesn't fit.

But Bella is calm, different. Renee watches her and hopes her partying days are over. She's worried for her daughter. The girl is too alive, too curious in ways that could get her in trouble. But, she's calm, different now. So she hopes. She hopes.

"I want you in early, you hear me?" she says to Bella. "Some rumors of this Sheriff sending armed watchmen to camp out in the woods."

Bella knits her brows. "Why?"

"That thief. The hermit. They figure he'll rampage tonight, so they're staking out."

Bella's stomach flips. Renee looks at her quizzically.

"And Bella," she adds at the last second. "Please be careful. I know you're up to something. It's … different. That's okay, but, you have to protect yourself, and you have to think of the feelings of others."

"What does that mean?" Bella is put off. Why does truth set a heart afire so quickly?

"You're my kid, I know you well. You hanker down on what you want and push everything in your way to get there."

Bella thinks. "Is that bad?"

Renee quirks her lips. "No. But It's a skill. A skill you do very well above all things. So you … forget about the big picture."

And what's the big picture? Bella asks herself when she walks away. She rolls her eyes. Why do moms have the power to deflate all of your excitement?

She passes by a cabin and sees Riley and Jen having a heated altercation. Jen walks away, he goes after and spins her toward him to kiss her. Jen and Riley are passionate in the shadows. The big picture is this; Bella isn't in tune to people's deep feelings. Jen was dying inside, and she wasn't there for her friend. Maybe she's not really seeing Edward for what he truly is either. He is what he is, and that perspective isn't going to change even over all her skepticism.

When she finds him, she sees the utmost happiness painted on his usually blank face. He's lounging on his back, looking up at the night sky. His fingers moving gently before him, like the sky is a canvas and he's creating.

She dares to lie back beside him. She sees what he sees.

"Wow," she breathes.

Fireflies float above them. They're like Christmas lights that were strung up over the clearing around trees. So many of them. It's a celebration here.

He catches one on a knuckle. It flies away just as quickly. "My fireworks. Every year, it doesn't fail," he says. He falls into conversation now without her prying.

She turns her head to stare at his profile.

He's beautiful.

His eyes roam around under his frames, and they light up with a soft glow the fireflies give off. He looks over at her. He softly grins as he tries not to blush.

"I'm sorry," she says.

He stares for a moment. His brows scrunch.

"I can be overbearing. I push," she explains.

He watches her cower into herself.

"It's all right," he answers back. They stare up at the fireworks _._ She traces the sky the same hoping to catch one on a knuckle, too.

Her hand bumps against his. She catches it before there are any bashful apologies. She presses her palm to his. His is larger; fingers bend over her fingertips.

He holds his breath. He's trying to think of a time when he was touched like this.

"I just … can't help it. I'm overwhelmed. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me or will ever happen to me. Finding you."

"Your experiment," he suggests with a smirk. He's looking away. At their hands. Interlaced.

Bella is mortified. She props herself on an elbow. "No. Never. Please. That's not what I meant. You're—"

He looks over at her. His eyes stopping her from fumbling further. "I understood what you meant," he says. She relaxes. They watch one another. His eyes never drop down to her lips like Jameson's would; a subtle sign of permission.

She hopes.

She settles back in place, this time she's tucked close against him.

"Well, you've gotten better. You can look at me now."

"Better? I guess it's an achievement."

"Well, you know. You'd shy away. You're intellectual. The way you speak. Thousands of books in that brain of yours. Yet, you simply didn't … look."

"The face. It's too much. It's loaded with information. Eyes say a lot," he explains.

She looks up at him from his shoulder. She wonders if he knows what her eyes are saying now.

"Aren't you all gathered loudly tonight to … slaughter a cow for burgers and burn your fingers off with fireworks? You always do," he says.

"You're asking why I'm here?" she laughs.

"No. Well, technically, yes."

"Well, Mom cooked and Dad barbequed. That's about it," she says.

"Is that where the food comes from? The containers you bring?" He wonders idly.

She smiles. "I mean, I don't cook. That's all Mom's."

He humphs. No wonder he enjoys the meals. The delicious source comes from the lady in that cabin with the swing who he's always been partial to. He keeps that to himself.

Bella gets to the point. "They're looking for you tonight, armed and hiding. They figured you'd go all out."

He's quiet for a moment. "That's exactly why I wouldn't do such things on a night like this. Besides, how could I miss all of this?" He gestures toward the fireflies.

Yes, how could she miss all of this?

"But now you're here and in potential danger walking around the woods alone. That was … unnecessary and irresponsible," he reprimands. His hand slips off hers to rest on his chest.

She suddenly feels ridiculous. Why _is_ she here?

"Oh," she says. "I was planning to leave quickly. I just wanted to warn you." She stands and straightens her skirt.

He can't help but glance at how soft it looks around her legs as it sways. He sighs and looks away.

She quickly makes it out of the clearing. Her heart all stirred. Then, she feels him behind her. Without fail, he comes close to escort her just like every time she leaves. The difference now is his hand catches her arm and guides her back.

"Not tonight," he says beside her. "You came here, you'll leave when it's light out, or you'll get lost." A bite to his words. She sings inside. She hides a smile so hard and basks in the warm feeling and nervous flutters.

Renee's warning rings in her ears about being in early, but it's not like Bella never broke her rules. Bella hasn't visited at night since she found Edward. Paths look different. She almost lost her way coming here. But she came. She needed to be here.

He shuffles around, doing this or that. Maybe he's a little nervous himself, but mostly mad. He saw her go and almost let her. It's not his problem. _She's_ not his problem. She came. He didn't ask her to, but maybe he's overwhelmed, too, just like she described. She made him _feel_ with that touch alone. He didn't like it.

He grunted to himself. He jumped up and ran after her. He couldn't live with himself if something were to happen to this insidious girl.

Now what? He'll sleep on the ground tonight. She can have the bed. He never once had to be a gentleman around a female. Maybe back then, in school. But now … now what?

"Come," he orders her. It's dark, and he's tired.

She hears his sharp tone. Once she sees where he's leading her, she doesn't let it intimidate her, because finally, _finally,_ she'll see what's inside the tent. Her steps are swift and light.

It's clean. She didn't expect it. Maybe she did. She doesn't know. The tarps hang on branches covering a large enough tent that houses his neatly made bed. Crates are stacked to hold so many books, just like bricks stacked to hold up the bed at each leg. A lantern sits by it on one side. It's so … impressive for an invented space made out of found things.

"If you get cold, pull this over you," he says gesturing to a neatly rolled up sleeping bag at the foot of the bed. But the thick quilt would suffice if he asked her.

"Well, where will you sleep?" she asks.

"Just settle in," he points. He pulls on a pillow and a sleeping bag to take it outside the tent. Bella does the same. He watches her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not taking your bed."

"You will," he spits. He takes the items from her hands and places them back inside.

"Absolutely not. Not unless you sleep inside. There's room," she says, pointing with a thumb. He stares at her. "I won't take up your space and let you sleep outside."

He leans towards her, open arms. "You already have," he seethes.

She rolls her eyes. She grabs his things and dumps them by the bed on the tent floor. She hops into the bed and covers herself up to her chin with the quilt.

"Like you said, I'm here now. Get over it, Edward Anthony Cullen— _not_ a stranger."

She stares at the tent ceiling while he stares daggers at her. She tries so very hard not to turn her head over his pillow and breathe in deeply. His wooded scent saturates the expensive linens. This is comical, she thinks; a hermit with expensive looking sheets.

"Where did you get all this shit anyway? Living large." She teases. He silently fumes. He settles on the floor, and his legs stretch out. She leans over to watch him from above. An arm rests behind his head. His legs cross at the ankles, and he scratches at his speckled jaw with eyes sealed shut to avoid her stare.

He ignores her.

That's how he remains the rest of the night. He doesn't even crack an eyelid when she's shuffling around under the quilt, or when there are sounds he's accustomed to out in these woods. Coyotes belt out their calls. They're far. He knows they are. He only needs sharp ears to measure the distances. But the girl doesn't know. She's terrified. Shuffling eventually quiets down, a pregnant silence settles over her, and only her breathing staggers when they call again from a distance.

He doesn't even react when he feels her touch, he won't. She jostles him to wake up, hesitant at first, then desperately. She whispers his name once, twice, three times ... each one his mother gave him. Her fingers crawl over his pecs, to his neck, maybe to check if he's dead. Yet he never stirs to give her the assurance.

He refuses.

She came here. He didn't ask her to. He figures she won't come back after this night. He hopes, and he hopes. But hopes run dry.

As hours melt away so does her peace. He didn't anticipate fear making a girl do irrational things.

When dawn breaks and he finally opens his eyes, he blinks up at the ceiling of the tent through a fan of dark locks. He's buried under a girl's warm body. She's not small. She's tall, just shy of his chin. He's noticed before. She takes up room in this narrow space, spilling over him to tangle her legs around his.

He huffs sending strands billowing away from his nose. He thinks of the wasted, perfectly good bed left vacant all night. Neither of them rested their bones on softness, but the sharp, flat piles of books he stacked over time.

She crawled over him, and he felt everything. The pound of her heart raging until it settled. The quilt poured over them, until she found her place ... like she's fit there all her life. Instantly, the coyotes didn't seem as frightening when her cheek pressed to his chest.

Bella slept peacefully.

Edward slept not a wink.

...


	18. Chapter 18 - Lone Star

**Chapter 18 – Lone Star**

They never spoke of that night. She woke up to soft sounds of life outside the tent. She stretched her legs, and she swore she slept on the bed all night. Didn't she? Her face grew red when she remembered. She was on his pillow, on the floor by the bed.

She ran out of there. He chewed slowly, sipped on coffee and watched her run away. He heard her mumbling incoherently. Then she was gone, home and straight into her bed to stare at her walls until her eyes dried up.

He stared at trees, rubbed his face a few times, and let the quiet day take over his thoughts wherever they went. Some were of himself finding his arm curled around her at some point during the night.

She doesn't come back for days. He's fine with that.

When she does come back, they are quiet for a couple of days. She sits on her crate and snoozes a little, or reads her book. They're in comfortable silence until they aren't and conversations bubble up. She becomes herself again.

This time he implies first. Her phone. Is it a phone? He's not sure. She's been tapping on a small gadget for a while. Things look different these days, or new.

Over the years he's noticed electronics have changed. That Gameboy he took off a shelf once looked different when he found another years later. No batteries needed, but an adapter for an electrical socket. He didn't take it. He's slowly being outdated. Simpler things mean nothing.

"It's a Cell," she explains quizzically when he glances more than once. "Cellular phone. I don't know how it really works, but I heard it pings to towers close by. You can do more than make mobile calls. Actually, you don't even have to call anyone anymore. You send a message. They receive it through text." She hands it over for him to take a look.

He doesn't take it, but his brows quirk. "You mean like going back in time, sending telegrams? How's that innovative?" He shakes his head and goes back to taping up a bin in need of fixing up. He thinks society really is strange.

Bella frowns slightly and shrugs. Well, he has a point.

He swallows, looks over at her after a while. She's lost in thought. Was he rude? He doesn't know about pleasantries anymore. Small talk. Hand shakes. Eye contact. He's emotionally thin-skinned. He has no filter.

Her silence tugs at him.

"What else can it do?" He tries. Her eyes cut to him, surprised he inquires at all. She sits up slightly, and a grin plays at her lips. She taps a small thumb over the dark brick. Music whirls around them, mingling with sounds of the woods. A pretty melody plays.

"Pink Floyd," he instantly says. He blinks up at the trees as he listens, smug he got it right.

She smiles. "You know it."

"It's been a while," he says. "I use to have the cassette."

She can't help but laugh at the vintage reference she barely remembers. "Right. Then CDs; compact discs. Now you carry it all here." She wiggles the phone in her hand. "I guess it's why these are so expensive." She rants idly.

He's boggled. He has to ask. "So, your world buys expensive equipment to basically listen to the radio?"

She tilts her head to form that full picture in there. _Your world._ He's right, it isn't his. It's hers, and it's crazy. She snorts and pinks a little.

"Yeah, I guess."

He tells himself he's not missing much. Not at all. But he listens closely, curiously, as she slowly reveals how it's like out there. He can't help but be blunt when reacting. She finds it so tickling, his expressions, and tries her hardest not to giggle.

Days like these are special and rare since he's so quiet. But when he does ask more, she spills more, and she loves every second of it. It's like telling an alien about earthly things.

Other days they hike up trails he takes when no one is around. Well, she tags along. He needs to warm up his muscles. Summers are for strengthening up for winters. He always needs sustenance, meaning more time finding his next break-in. He'd never go accompanied, but Bella is always there, so he does the light work like staking out and hiking until she gets too tired to continue and heads home.

Once or twice, while they hiked, their hands would collide. Mostly when she walked too close in fear of sounds around them so early in the morning. She wouldn't catch it in hers to hold, but the day a deer appeared and shuffled close, she almost yanked his wrist off. He curled his fingers around hers and pulled her along. He didn't know what else to do.

Summer goes by quickly. Those hiking days are sparse. Bella makes sure to spend time needed around her friends and not run to Edward every chance she gets. She gives him his space. He needs it. Things are tense anyway. Silence is soaked with a new underlining of attraction for her and dread for him. He struggles with this newfound tension and … touches. He breathes easier when she doesn't show up with Tupperware, yet she is all he thinks about when she isn't there.

He thinks of her now as he heads to the water late at night. Not a cricket or howl could be heard. The calm is proof that summer is just touching the edge of a new season. But like every season, he finds ways to bathe in the cool water, even if it's for a few minutes at a time.

He jumps in and stares at his fellow stars. Even they cluster and form constellations collectively. He's alone. He would be the lone star, but the brightest one. That's what Bella thinks as she walks up to the dock she lounges on during the day. She sneaks up and looks down at his clothes. She lets hers join his.

Edward is all eyes watching her daringly shed her dress. She lets her hair loose, and when she floats closely to him, he stiffens. She smiles softly in contrast.

Her head pulls back, and the water soaks her long strands. The peaks of her breasts gently surface as dark water whirls around her. She curves her spine and lets herself float over the water.

Just one touch of his hand, she holds on, and he relaxes. He settles back the same, and he silently introduces her to his nightly secret.

It's wondrous.

He finds himself turning to look at her. Plump lips over her profile. The curve of her nose and wet lashes. Droplets run down her neck to gather on her chest as it rises and falls. Her legs lazily kick, making her navel disappear under bubbles before it appears again with the tiniest pool settling in it.

 _That_ is wondrous.

An hour seems to go by, maybe an eternity. He doesn't know which. Her hand tightens and she pulls herself close to him. Their halves float beneath, just barely touching.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," is what she says. "Last day."

His eyes drop to her lips. Bella is all elation inside at that.

"Please take care," she says with a nod.

He blinks up at her eyes and barely responds with a nod of his head.

He watches her pull that dress over her spine and the dip of her slick back. She turns knots in her hair until the droplets slow as they're wrung out.

"I'll miss you, Edward Anthony Cullen." She smiles, leaving him bewildered.

She took the Tupperware for the last time and took with her the atmosphere. He breathed a sigh of relief. A guest who overstayed.

The next summer he braces for her return, glancing at the boulders every morning, yet he never spots her there. She never comes. He doesn't know what to think.

…..


	19. Chapter 19 - The Narrative

**A/N: I alwasy tell myself I'd explain some backstory or answer questions and I forget which. Send them my way, I'll gladly answer in next post.  
**

 **Sorry for the delay, I was trying to make these next few chaps robust for the rest of the storyline. So these are familiar chaps but have more. Next post this week.**

 **Thanks to Patrizia and Frannie for helping out with this to make more sense of things.**

 **Enjoy. xoxox**

* * *

 _Previously **...**_

 _"I'm leaving tomorrow," is what she says. "Last day."_

 _His eyes drop to her lips. Bella is all elation inside at that._

 _"Please take care," she says with a nod._

 _He blinks up at her eyes and barely responds with a nod of his head._

 _He watches her pull that dress over her spine and the dip of her slick back. She turns knots in her hair until the droplets slow as they're wrung out._

 _"I'll miss you, Edward Anthony Cullen." She smiles, leaving him bewildered._

 _She took the Tupperware for the last time and took with her the atmosphere. He breathed a sigh of relief. A guest who overstayed._

 _The next summer he braces for her return, glancing at the boulders every morning, yet he never spots her there. She never comes. He doesn't know what to think._

 _….._

 **Chapter 19 - The Narrative**

Edward moves on.

He works.

He tucks into his own space and routine, but he wonders and wonders. It bothers him that he does.

That girl. She didn't come.

Did she stay away for a grand plan? Will they come for him now? Did someone see her walk out of the dense woods with an expression, one he'd see over her face every day? Did they find it suspicious that she would be smiling about empty woods? She would be smiling about something or someone who put that smile there.

Girls don't walk alone in the woods.

His stomach is constantly in knots. He can't eat. He can't sleep. He takes the risk of figuring it out. He walks out of his camp every few days, but not to find food; to find answers.

The lake is occupied now. The daily routine; splashes, chatter, and bows bumping into canoes. People are having their holiday.

His sharp ears pick up conversations. All the other kids he's seen her with are there on the dock: some lounge, some dip their toes. One of them tells the other about a dying mother. They look glum. She, the spark to the party, isn't there.

Later, while staring at trees, deciphering what it all means, he figures he'd be found by now. Three seasons have passed, and he's still here. No suspicions. They'd rampage through these woods if they knew.

No. He wouldn't be free.

His heart hammers less. His appetite swells. He lays it all to rest that night. When he wakes, he starts the routine all over again. Work cannot wait. Fear will always loom.

Her father came alone. Edward notices during a daytime _errand_. He avoids the area after that, determined to move on.

Charlie opened up the cabin, cleaned it out, and has stayed for the summer. Edward doesn't know he came, not because he wanted to, but because he had to do the yearly routine of watching over the cabin, bring new trinkets Renee loved so much.

Charlie would never leave the cabin alone past a year. No one has forgotten about the thief who is still out there; the one who takes and never disturbs, who is blissfully ignorant of the efforts going on around him. New cabins are being built. New homes on old land. All of them are being set up with new security systems, the types Edward will soon run into and have to decipher.

He will. He always works his way around them.

July comes. Edward finds himself in front of the cabin with the swing without thought. Seeing it makes him curious. It's empty. The girl's father must be out fishing; the rods are gone from where he keeps them. Inside, the photos on the walls tell him stories. He stands there, way past his rules of time. His arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up, he follows the narrative.

The girl was at prom with that other boy he saw kiss her at the lake, like she'd escape from his grasp. Another frame is of a vacation somewhere tropical in her … swimwear. Mexico? Cancun? He realizes he doesn't know her name. _Swan_ is etched on the front entrance. That, he knows. She was so curious about him; she never talked about herself.

His eyes roam, and there, on the far right, is her in her cap and gown. High school is far over. Friends hug her in a capture, but her eyes tell a different story. He's never seen her with that expression. He mostly remembers her curious, apprehensive, or infatuated, her lip wedged between her teeth.

He dreaded the look. Giddy is the feeling of a young girl, a child, one so sheltered, experiencing something new and exciting. He was her excitement. Excitement she couldn't wait to share with friends. But he sees now, the lip bite was her containing the feeling of attraction and awe. She was not sheltered. She was free, daring, and devious; everything he will never be.

And she kept his secret.

He takes a good look at the photo, and she's not smiling. He almost wishes the expression was fluster, just this once.

She didn't come.

Well, it's best. This is the end. Last summer was unplanned. A stranger cared to know and ask after him. It was a moment that lasted and a moment he's glad will be written down as part of his past.

He doesn't take anything, he just locks up the cabin and says farewell to a moment that came and went.

….


	20. Chapter 20 - Isolation

**Chapter 20 - Isolation**

"Come," she says. Her shawl is pulled from her shoulders. She wraps it around her hands and takes a step closer.

Edward slowly blinks. Sometimes she's blurry when he opens his eyes; sometimes she's clear as day. She's closer now than yesterday. Yesterday she was by the tarps that hang over the tent. Pitch darkness, but the moments his eyes clear up, he sees her.

He sighs. His chest constricts from the dread of this consistency night after night. If he had the strength, he'd tell her to go away.

Empty stomach. Empty brain.

It's the dead of winter, and the cold is relentless. Layers and layers of snow are around him. If he attempts to leave the clearing, his footprints will mark the way back home. He can't. Even if the last of the food is gone, days ago, he won't go find more.

Wherever.

However.

Isolation is absolute.

"Are you coming?" she insists. Her shawl billows above his body lying on his bed, and drapes over the sleeping bags. All he can do is weakly shake his head.

This woman from the woods won't go away. Women, in his life, troubled and troubling. He never asked for them to come. Just when he feels his worst, feels like he might slip away in his sleep, this particular one walks into his campsite.

She beckons with a gesture toward the outside. The tent is open. Her palm curls up, and so does he. He burrows deeper into his cocoon. He never wants to follow.

He just prays for warmth.

To the Lady of the Woods with the shawl he says, _Not tonight._

 _…_


	21. Chapter 21 - That Superhero

**Chapter 21 - That Superhero**

Spring comes. Lilacs bloom. He knows it's spring when they bloom. Years mean nothing to him. The state of nature is his calendar.

He's alive and can witness a new season once again. He doesn't know how he survived. He finds strength and learns from his mistakes. More search. More food. Dig further and bury the necessities for those cold weeks that turn into months.

Summer burns hot up until the very end. Fall cools and quiets down the campsite. Edward witnessed the typical summer activities, some people lingering, some long gone. He ventured out further to scavenge, and found new cabins he's never tried. He stakes out a lot. He watches the patterns, documents them mentally. He makes trips back and forth, taking his time to find the perfect timing and the right amount of bravery. Supplies are bountiful. It sets a fire in his gut, the relief of _more_ , the excitement of getting his way as he runs away after break-ins.

He carries tanks on his back far distances, sometimes two. His muscles alive, protesting. But he accepts the strain, the sweat trickling down his back. It's better than icicles.

He's alive. He's lord of these woods, a ghost in his wake, leaving no trace. No one could stop him.

Moments like these he feels like it's all for something; to be alone, all for that purpose. And it's right. It all aligns. His muscles grow, and so does his hope of never being caught.

Who's that superhero from the comics he's read? The one that climbs and sticks to buildings as he glides through the air? That's him. He's lithe, and he's stealth. He takes, and he runs. He feels animated. He does anything he wants.

Until Edward looks up.

The rain falls. The rope he attached to a flashlight dangles around his neck. He's making his rounds. It's a perfect time to. Rain makes everything quiet. People don't travel. No one likes to hike when rain makes leaves slick on the ground and the temperature cold.

His jacket is worn but dark. He hides under the hood. Droplets drift down the weather-safe fabric like they do over her skin.

She's alone.

He's frozen where he stands, trying to piece together what he sees far away.

The lake's surface bubbles with the rain falling hard beneath her. The canoe wobbles left to right. She stands, a foot behind her, the other one in front. Her arms are spread wide. The bow is out of sight, beyond her reach, but she's not looking for it. She's ready to let go.

Then, she does.

Edward runs.

Rain suffocates him. He pants and pants to get to her. All the strength he's built he now gathers. The flashlight finds the ground. His backpack is forgotten and left behind. He kicks off his heavy boots and pulls off things that would hinder the speed he counts on.

One splash into that living water from the dock, and he's one stroke closer to her limp body.

"Bella!"

Edward doesn't look back at the shout. His focus is ahead. This girl is in his hands, and it's his responsibility now, no one else's.

He grunts. He hooks an arm, faces her to the sky, and pulls her from her chest. One, two, three strokes through the water and he's not even close to shore. He fights, rips through the bubbling surface that blinds him.

One loud grunt, one heaving lift, and the shore is beneath them both. He begins to find her breath.

"Come on," he says to her. Her ribs cave with his weight, her cheeks bulge with his air. Blue lips are frozen shut, and so are her amber eyes.

"Bella," says the boy. He runs up and lands on his knees.

Edward is in a trance. Every maneuver is precise. He jerks a hand to stop the boy's advance. _Wait_ it seems to say. He dives in for another round; ribs, lips, and a "Come on, girl. Come on."

And he wonders why in the world a child who has everything she needs would need to do this to herself. He kneels above her and waits. "Breathe," he murmurs.

At his command, she does.

Bella opens her eyes and sputters. The first person she sees is precisely the one she's been looking for.

Jameson melts over her in an embrace as the stranger pulls away. He tugs Bella over his lap as they both watch Edward rush away, head down, sopping wet, fists tight, and desperate to make it out of sight.

…


	22. Chapter 22 - Her Solace

**A/N: Read back previous chap to get into it. I thank you all for reading and reviewing. I love your reactions. New chaps from here on out.**

* * *

 **Previously...**

"Bella!"

Edward doesn't look back at the shout. His focus is ahead. This girl is in his hands, and it's his responsibility now, no one else's.

He grunts. He hooks an arm, faces her to the sky, and pulls her from her chest. One, two, three strokes through the water and he's not even close to shore. He fights, rips through the bubbling surface that blinds him.

One loud grunt, one heaving lift, and the shore is beneath them both. He begins to find her breath.

"Come on," he says to her. Her ribs cave with his weight, her cheeks bulge with his air. Blue lips are frozen shut, and so are her amber eyes.

"Bella," says the boy. He runs up and lands on his knees.

Edward is in a trance. Every maneuver is precise. He jerks a hand to stop the boy's advance. Wait it seems to say. He dives in for another round; ribs, lips, and a "Come on, girl. Come on."

And he wonders why in the world a child who has everything she needs would need to do this to herself. He kneels above her and waits. "Breathe," he murmurs.

At his command, she does.

Bella opens her eyes and sputters. The first person she sees is precisely the one she's been looking for.

Jameson melts over her in an embrace as the stranger pulls away. He tugs Bella over his lap as they both watch Edward rush away, head down, sopping wet, fists tight, and desperate to make it out of sight.

…

 **Chapter 22 - Her Solace**

"Where have you been?" She's fire. Burning. Her lips pale; eyes are raging. "I walked and walked, and you weren't here!" she shouts.

Edward is silent. His brows furrowed. He shakes his head confused. He watches her crumble before him. He picked up all his things, one by one after scooping her dead out of the lake. Then he rushed back to his tent and re-lived every moment. Adrenaline in his muscles remained for hours, days.

He worried.

He fret.

What if the boy followed him?

Now this problem. Two days have passed since he ran from the shore, and when dawn broke, it brought her here. Like a ghost, like the Lady in the Woods from those winter nights, she stood by the boulders and smoldered.

"Where did you go?" she shouts some more. Her fists claw at the air. "I needed you. I … couldn't find you."

"I'm here," he pushes through his lips.

"You were gone! I couldn't remember. Every day, all summer, I looked for you. I walked for hours to look for you. You left me!"

"I've been right here!" he shouts. It is loud. It echoes far and beyond the trees.

He breaks her hysterics. Veins protrude from his neck as she watches his anger. Her breath catches, and now she's crying. She grips the sweater around her heart, and she's sure it'll give in any second.

"I tried," she stammers. "And I couldn't remember." Her hands fall at her sides. Her chin trembles. "My mother died … and you know who I wanted to tell first? You. Of course, you. I was so sure you'd know exactly what to say to make it feel okay." She shakes her head. "It's been so long I … I didn't know how to find you again." She waves her arms around the camp.

He knows. Shrubs change, they grow. The woods look different after a time. It's been two years. He didn't mean to count, but he did anyway. Over twenty-four whole months without her here.

He's wrong. She's not a child. Like shrubs, she's changed, too. Her cheeks aren't as round or soft. Her hair, a different shade, frames her darkened, aged eyes that have seen hurt. Waves of locks touch stronger shoulders. The curve of her hips defined as she comes closer.

Then closer.

Her head leans against his chest. Edward's lips can almost rest just above her head; she tucks perfectly into him. Her scent like nothing in these woods. He feels her arms curl around him. His remain frozen on either side of him.

It feels like an eternity, like his pulse spikes and he's underwater trying to get to her again. His heart is a drum, like the moment he turns a lock on a house and runs.

Bella is desperate inside. Her grip tightens, and she curls her toes to reach up. One kiss on his neck. The second presses over the speckles of his chin.

His eyes seal shut. "I don't make anything okay. I don't make … anything." He points. He's angry. How could she put that burden on him? She was passing by. That's all this was. Then, she was gone, and he accepted that.

She stands back, letting go. She sniffs up her cries. More comes flowing down. She was living in a fantasy. This image in her head. His calm nature was the perfect formula for her desperation. But he didn't exist. He wasn't there. Jen, Lauren, and Jameson were. They paid their respects, and she saw the casket go down. All the while, this man was her solace.

"It was just in my mind," she whispers. "All of it." she nods to herself. She pinches her lips with fingertips and thinks hard on what this really means.

When she couldn't find him, after months and months of trying, she knew she was done with life. She had already lost someone precious to her. Bella wanted to bury herself in that lake.

That was the plan.

Edward takes a breath. He stares at her, feeling her warmth still, and completely shaken. This is why he's here, to get away from this. He doesn't want this; people and strong feelings. The absurdity of trying to find a connection. For what? To lose it? Struggle through it? Die for it? Ruin a sacred place he calls home over it? No. He worked too hard, shed weight, tears, and hope over it.

"You didn't feel a thing for me, did you?" she asks. Her teeth gnaw at her lips sheepishly, devastated, embarrassed.

He looks away. The ground slips from beneath him.

Faintly, he shakes his head. "I'm built not to. It's how I am."

She nods, but inside she's in pieces.

She takes one step back. "Well, I'm leaving, for college. I'm already late. Everyone's a year ahead." She shrugs. This is best, she thinks.

She doesn't know he thinks that also.

He turns his back. He finds that book and takes it to her.

She looks at it. Frederick Drimmer's _Very Special People_ bright red and yellow on the cover—straight out of her bedside table he took from her room. She lifts a hand. "Keep it. It's your favorite."

His brows knit in question. She shrugs. "You'd always pick it over any."

He thumbs the spine gingerly and looks away.

She leaves now or she never will. The trees whirl at her wake with the sudden wind that picks up and picks at his heart.

He watches her go and watches many months go by. He tries not to count them. He tries to close his eyes tight and not remember the night she left, the same night that brought back the inexplicable Lady of the Woods.

It wasn't winter yet. She was too early. She came back the night Bella left, like clockwork, to torture him further.

Her silhouette stood at the break of the tent, that weight of her presence so heavy, it paralyzed him where he laid. He grew angry. _Not tonight. Not ever._ His heart still ached from that day. Still running through the words said; lips against his neck, the embrace, but mostly the daunting expectations.

She came farther in. She didn't stay where she usually stands, as she beckons for him to leave with her. She stepped in, then into his bed, and he let her. They delved deep into the abyss of warm quilts. In the morning, she was gone.

A dream. He was sure. Those come easy these days. Terrible ones. No sleep. No peace.

Winter couldn't come soon enough. When it did, it was brutal. Silence came early. Snow fell early. He accepted the cold, white relentlessness. He wanted to be buried in it, so the memories of that night wouldn't suffocate him. He kept still for hours on end to keep everything from spinning, like they did behind his eyelids time and again.

Now he tries to avoid that cabin, the one with the dreaded swing. He disarms all the others around it but keeps that one out of reach.

Until Spring, when lilacs bloom again.

The blossoms line the path he walks. They brush up against his legs when he crouches down to watch.

Everything in his being leads him straight to this place, the door. He unlocks it.

Bella, as he learned is her name—inaudibly forming his lips around the syllables every day—hasn't come around the cabin yet. But her father has, who happens to be out of sight.

 _Swan_ is still etched at the front of the door. He pushes through it with the key and finds that wall with the frames. The wall that tells him stories about people living lives under structure and law. How they show happiness and milestones in stilled moments despite being pinned to societal influences and rules. He goes straight to it. It takes a moment to find her. Anything, anything new the father might've brought.

But there are no new yearly goals or new Christmas cards. The same graduation and prom photos hang where he last saw them, dust coating at the edges. Everything is the same but for something new.

A dark paper, border in white, is tucked over a frame's glass unceremoniously, unplanned. While Bella's picture of her and the boy from the lake is framed, the paper is pinned over it. It's an addition that wasn't given its own frame.

There are blurs in black and in white; a diamond-shape capture fills the black edges. At a glance, the blurs look ominous, but when Edward lets his eyes adjust, he sees a face. A small one. A pointed nose, puffed up lips, and black smudges for eyes. The tiniest webbed hands spring up, and fingers form perfectly around them.

Edward doesn't know much about what's medically new these days, but he remembers enough to know an image of a fetus hasn't changed. Not for many years, he guesses. He might even recall his sister's when his mother brought it home in her purse. He fretted, all his brothers fretted. The new addition to the family would soon come.

Here, in the Swan's family cabin, pictures like these are celebrated, set out to admire the inevitability. Her father proudly pinned up Bella's unborn baby. Her name finely printed at the edges.

Nothing on the wall of stories has changed, except for this monumental one.

...


	23. Chapter 23 - She's Beautiful

**A/N: I love the new rush of adds. Enjoy. xoxo  
Thanks to Patrizia for pre-reading and Frannie for the edits. Last time, he found an ominous image in Bella's cabin, pinned to her photo. A monumental one. Go read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 23 - She's Beautiful**

Edward lets the image of a child on a dark photo occupy his mind.

He sleeps, and a dream comes to him. He sees his mother holding a little boy by the hand. The boy looks very much like his brother Emmett at his age.

His sister appears, and she looks different. Her face glows, and she's not sick anymore. The syndrome is barely visible in her features, and she's introducing him to her son. The father is a friend she'd acquired in her young years. Everyone, even Emmett, stands byto watch Edward meet the child as he falls to his knees.

Edward feels sadness in his heart. In the dream, he knows he's been away, and it has hurt his sister more than any of his brothers. He lets his nose redden and his throat bob, tears pool his eyes as the boy touches his bearded cheek.

Edward is torn. His clothes barely fit him, but for the belt keeping them on. His skin is filthy, bruised, proof that the harsh winters have finally caught up to him. He can't help but feel this loss as he holds his nephew tight. He's missed out on so much of his family's life.

He wakes for the first time in years feeling the tears trickle down his temples. That hasn't happened since he was a child. Not since he cried for his mother as storms thundered out his bedroom window. He still fears those thunders at times.

He sniffs through the silence to clear the remnant feeling of a vivid dream.

For days he can't shake the discomfort, the unease.

What is it? What's changed him? He doesn't have the guts to answer those questions honestly. He knows what the answers are. It's her. The girl who made his perfect, solitary world vulnerable.

He looks around his camp, and it's not what it used to be, how it used to feel. It was his sanctuary. Now the ghost of Bella's presence takes over, walks around the edges, sits by the boulders.

She invaded the air of privacy and left a void to be filled.

It taunts him.

He fights with himself. He kicks at bins; he cracks at the bark of a tree with anything he gets his hands on, angry that this consumes him. There should not be a void. This is his place. He takes up all the voids and makes them his. It always worked that way.

Eventually, with time, he settles. He calms. He takes all the days of rest he needs and doesn't think of those dense feelings connected to this place.

But that creeping plan looms. He thinks of the backup, the one he buried at the far corner of the clearing. If ever he decided on an escape, or if he was found, he would find the bag with everything he'd need to start over someplace new.

He thinks and thinks about that bag buried there.

She won't come back now. Her life has also changed. It's what he wanted; for her to keep away. Yet, he keeps away from that escape plan.

He procrastinates. He works, finds, and gathers, but subconsciously he's finding and gathering for an imminent move. Everything is portable and easy to pack in a bag. He piles up the necessities in a corner. He sits and watches the pile grow larger every day.

He hikes. He watches Spring bloom. The trails are all his during these months. He feels the relief of a tough winter, but the dismay that the silence is over. Birds chirp. Leaves grow and move. Everything is in motion now. A starting engine, revving up; his muscles the same.

The cabins in the surrounding area are still empty. He figures he'll poke around and see what he missed back in Fall. He parks a canoe by the lakeshore and sprinkles leaves inside when he tucks it back in place. No signs it's been used to cross the lake.

He makes his rounds, looks through windows, and leisurely decides if he should go in and investigate anything that piques his curiosity. The camp kitchen center he knows is empty. None of these campers are leaving anything behind. They're cognizant now. They plan and pack away anything they know will be gone over the winter.

He's disgruntled. This place has been immunized. They know about him, what he does. They work to keep him from taking things.

What is there left of this place? Nothing. He can't live here anymore. Soon there won't be any food to find.

Gravel crunches under the wheels of a car; suddenly, there's human life.

He crouches low, dodging behind a cabin. Adrenaline surges through his body, knowing he's been caught in this predicament. This never happens. He's careful. This is an odd moment that would never occur on a month like this.

His heart lurches. He finds the bushes and the weaving of trees and rushes away, far enough where he can't be seen. And if it were any other circumstance, he'd rush off to his tent and wait it out, not leaving for days.

But now it's different. Maybe he isn't thinking much beyond this. Maybe something ebbs. He instinctively hides to wait it out behind the bend of a tree.

The car makes a loop around and stops far off at the last cabin, the one he made a rule not to visit ever again. The swing still hangs, but it's worn with leaves piled beneath it.

He adjusts his glasses over his nose like it'll magnify the visuals. He wishes it would. It just gathers every blurred line through squinted eyes to find the sharp picture. It'll still his heart.

A car door slams from afar. It's the father—Bella's. It's not supposed to be this way. He shouldn't be here. Spring hasn't ended yet. The heat hasn't dried up the dew over the grass, or the dipped leaves that have gathered water after a frosted winter. He could drink from them still, dip them over his lips and let the ice-cold water trickle down his throat. Now he just feels like his throat closes up, locking his jaw on a bite.

Edward watches as the father looks up at the cabin and takes a deep breath. His gaze leisurely makes its way around the property to the trees—his expression of relief.

He pops the trunk and carries out bags loaded with things for the summer. Edward idly wonders if new photos for the wall are among the items.

The father says something. To himself? Edward can't tell. It's inaudible with the distance.

Edward's foot comes off the root of the tree he uses to get some height and steps back. He decides, in an instant, he should move on, leave the man to find routine in his space. There's nothing here to see, but there is the risk of being seen.

Charlie rushes out the door toward the car as if glass willfall out of the front seat. That's when Edward locks his knees. He's not going anywhere. He notices there is more to see. The commotion pins him to his hiding spot to wait.

Maybe he didn't come alone.

It's not glass about to shatter, but a struggling Bella climbing out, one foot at a time. Their hands clasped. He braces her and she makes a face like she'll protest. Charlie overreacts as he guards her every move.

Edward's insides knot up. He watches intently, tilting his head to get a better look. The trunk to the car is open high and obstructing the view a little. Just her shoulder and profile peek over. Then she takes a few steps until he can see her in her entirety.

She pulls at her knit sweater, which wraps over a bump in her midsection. Her back arches and her palm quickly presses there to straighten the knots. The weight she carries is of a perfectly sized bulging belly.

He hasn't seen many; in fact, only one pregnant woman in his life.

Jane was very tiny when she was born. She didn't have a name yet when she was still cooking inside there. His mother phrased it that way. Her hand constantly rubbed over the baby bump, smiling warmly, as she whispered lulling lullabies. She would make a fist against her back like Bella does now, and she'd explain to Edward and his brothers what was growing in her swollen belly.

No, not an alien, not a horror movie like the boys anticipated. It was countless the times they'd joke and wonder when they'd see one protruding out of their mother'sbelly, a gory scene. The giggles were non-stop. Edward and his brothers would stare at the impressions under the surface, right above her belly button; their sister moving around in there; shifting, growing. They'd watch until they were bored. Many times, the warm bump would serve as a pillow for young Edward as he drifted off to sleep on hismother's lap. She'd read to him, all the boys, her fingers twirling his hair.

He remembers now. It strikes him instantly like a bolt of lightning, clear to his own taut belly. The mirrored feeling of his dream—him missing out.

His head rests against the bark, and he blinks slowly.

He gazes.

He almost doesn't recognize her. Her hair has grown long, touching her back. Rose colored lips and cheeks. Her discomfort and annoyance toward her father's hovering could never mask the soft glow. She's matured in features and demeanor. Her hands at work togather things while ordering her father not to forget this or that. She's the planner, the organized one, while he shuffles around uncoordinated, getting all the items.

But she stops. She takes a deep breath. Charlie occupies himself while she takes a moment to look up at the cabin. She wanders toward the woods. Like a compass, his camp is north and her eyes the magnetic needle; she gazes beyond the trees as if she could see the boulders.

He wonders … is she looking for him?

He leaves. He must.

She's … beautiful.

…


	24. Chapter 24 - Lucky Today

**A/N: Jay-Kay Ell-oh-Ell. I wouldn't leave you hanging ... for too long. Not today. *wink* Hah. I'll stop. Happy GoT Sunday, tho.  
Next chap will be BPOV on what she's been through; but not written yet. I'll try to be quick. Black emoji heart. Go read. ILY for your reviews. Love them all.**

* * *

 **Chapter 24 - Lucky Today**

His arms and back muscles strain.

The plastic lid from a bin is large enough to scoop the earth. He's used it before. Its creases are bent just right; duct tape keeping the pieces together. The point at the end helps to dig into the ground. He kneels by the lump of dirt. One more scoop, and there it is.

He pulls the duffel bag out, the flashlight next, then the canteen and a tent follow.

It's like a huge weight landed on his chest with the reality. He must go. This is final. The decision has been made.

When was it made?

No. He won't analyze that. He tells himself it's about food. It's about this campsite. There are no resources here for him to continue to live on any longer.

Yes. That's what it is.

The decision was made. He dug things up.

Then night comes, and he lays in bed and stares up at the peak of his bedroom tent.

He's so angry.

This place was his. He remembers getting the tarps and ties from a shed behind a house. The bins he carried for a mile or two just to get them in here. There are things he's kept for years that he tied to trees. He thinks of every item. He thinks of every purpose. He never disposed of anything in case it would be of some use. His stove. His washing rock. His mushroom, the one he's watched grow week to week as it spread and bloomed. His silly little house pet. _She_ sat right by it every day while pretending to read a book in her chair; barely flipping a page. He knew. She watched him. He'll give it all up because of a girl who once was. A woman? She's grown. A mother-to-be.

Then he thinks of her.

He knows the decision was made to leave, but not all because of resources.

Yes. All of the equipment he stares at as he sips his coffee the next morning is mostly because of her.

The mug—coffee still piping in it—goes flying across the campsite. He pulled back an arm and threw it far with the anger, the resentment, the distraught. Nearly ten years in this haven and now he has to give it up.

He lifts his tired limbs from his favorite spot, and walks to get the damned cup. There's no way he's also giving that up.

…

Sam, the local, is a simple man. His daily routine is to wake up, shuffle into the kitchen and turn the stove on where he left the coffee in a pot prepared for the next morning; this morning. His bones are achy. He remembers once when they were so agile. He'd saw lumber and chop down trees with strong swipes of his ax. He'd climb frames of cabins he'd build like a squirrel up a tree.

He takes a deep breath, takes a sip, and looks up at the ceiling he built himself.

He grumbles. He forgets today is exercise day. He must pull on pants and hiking shoes and actually attempt to try and get his heart rate up. " _Every other day, Sam. Half hour. It's all you need."_ The doctor had said.

If that doctor were a tree, he'd have chopped him down long ago. A chair would be nice. He could sit on him, get his lungs constricted like Sam feels when his protest. That would teach him.

 _Half hour._

Well, he needs to go into town anyway. No car this time, he guesses. He'll get his steps in that way.

The blooming bushes and trees around his property look fuller. He looks them over. Sees the remaining leaves scattered around he has to gather and pick up. He makes a note to get more mulch for this season, tidy up the plot. His Emily would be proud. He did plant and groom the yard to her liking. She'd sit on the porch for hours knitting or braiding baskets as she looked out at the woods.

Those were the days when she was alive, and the kids ran around. Now the kids are married, living in the city, and his Emily in a grave, laid beneath flowers he tends to every year on her birthday.

Sue helps when she's not drowning in work. She's the only daughter who comes around more often. She has the cabin a few miles north. Never been married. Those types of lifestyles he never understands. She's all about her career as a doctor and helps the community preserve the reservation. His little activist.

Not so little anymore. She's a grown woman and just as pushy as his doctor. _Eat this. Quit that_. And _did you take your pills today?_

He grumbles.

The trail is familiar. He could walk it with his eyes closed. Today he whistles. He tugs on protruding branches left behind from other hikers who brush past them. The sticks are left bare to scratch on shins and ankles. He tidies up the path any chance he gets. He kicks at dirt toward the edges and swings the found branches into the dense woods to clear the way.

Then he sees him. A young man. A hiker. The baggage attached to his back goes over his head. A flashlight hangs on a rope from his neck. Sam stands in that stop he stood with Charlie and his girl as they hiked this path a few years back. He mentioned a boy living in the woods. Charlie was suspicious. Sam was so tired of him complaining about missing things. It was nothing. Just like now. Just a man passing by.

Sam straightens from picking up another stick and cracks it in his hands as he looks up and sees him. Just a glimpse. Along with his baggage, he dragged a bin. Sam wonders what's in it. It must be the boy who lives in the woods. He knows hikers never carry around bins on their travels.

Sam hopes in his heart, as he watches him disappear, that he's faring well. The path the fellow is on will lead to this spot. Sam doesn't want to startle him. He keeps moving so the stranger won't catch up to him.

Sam cracks the branch in his hands again and tosses it to the side. He's already down the dirt road by the lake. Across the pond he sees movement.

Charlie's cabin. _So early?_

He whistles louder, content he'll have something to do or someone to visit for a while. He purses his lips, and the shrill of the whistle makes Charlie look up from his porch.

"Son of a bitch," Charlie says with a laugh. He sets his coffee down on the table and walks up to the steps to meet Sam.

It takes a while. The older man is slow.

"Well, I'm a hundred years old," Charlie jokes as he waits.

Sam chuckles and pauses at the steps to take a breath. "Fuck you," he mutters. Charlie laughs like he's been tickled.

"Also, my condolences, son," Sam says. Charlie gives him a sad grin. He climbs down and pats Sam on the shoulder.

"She would've loved seeing you here today."

Sam climbs up the porch with a nod and lands on the chair adjacent to Charlie's. They both sigh once they're settled, looking out at the lake and the fog coming down in places.

"You're here early." Charlie nods as a reply.

"Bella kept insisting. She wanted to settle in early. She wants to have the baby here. I guess this place reminds her of Renee." He slightly shakes his head. "And she's pushy and hormonal, and I'm just a man trying to appease a tired woman."

Sam chuckles.

"So much exaggerating," says a voice from behind the screen door. Sam looks back to see the said tired woman. To him, she looks beautiful, not tired.

He smiles. He remembers his Emily at her age with a bulge like that. He rubbed her belly for hours until Emily would fall asleep.

He watches Bella push through the screen door; a steaming mug in one hand for him. She offers it up with a smile. Her own in her other hand.

She lifts a palm. "Don't worry it's just warm milk," she says to her father. Her annoyance one Sam also remembers.

"A North Pond baby," Sam says in wonder. "When's the day?" he asks.

"Not soon enough," Bella mutters.

Charlie already looks nervous. Sam can tell this new addition was rattling. Renee gone, and a young girl in this predicament so early in her life. Well, Sam remembers Emily being far younger than her and pregnant. He doesn't see the big deal.

"What a blessing," Sam jabs. Charlie gives him a grumpy side look.

Bella tries to contain a smile. Sam watches her sip her warm milk to hide it. He hmphs. Definitely some tension going on around here.

"Well, I'll have my daughter Sue take a trip over. She can check up on you if you like. She's a fine doctor and has delivered hundreds of North Pond babies."

Sam sees Bella's eyes light up. A relief there. She looks at Charlie and says, "I told you it would work out. Help right at our doorstep."

Charlie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

Just then, a fancy car drives up. Everyone looks. Bella smiles big and places her mug on the porch railing.

"Tell her I'll make her dinner. I'd love to meet her. You come, too." Bella says before she waddles off to meet the newcomer.

Sam nods. He watches as the young woman ascends the porch and hurries down the dirt path toward a young boy. Her arms are up, ready to wrap them around his neck. Young love. He barely remembers the feeling.

"Slowly. Watch your feet, girl," Charlie says, raising his voice. She ignores him. "I swear I'll be joining Renee this year with all the stress," he says to Sam who chuckles low.

"And her not here for all this mess … ," Charlie says idly. He wrings his hands at his lap. "I was … beside myself, as you can imagine. I told her she'll finish college no matter if triplets are growing in that belly of hers."

Sam watches the young couple hug for a stretched moment. The young boy looks familiar. His mother has a cabin at this camp. _James? Or Jameson?_ Something. But his clothes are nice and neat like his pushed back hair. He's looking like money. The two talk, whispering to one another. Bella is animated, like seeing him here is a load off her chest.

"She was silent for weeks," says Charlie. He keeps talking. "Terrified. I saw it in her eyes. She stopped going to classes, and that was that. I could've killed this boy," he says with a thumb over to the lovers on the path. "But even he looked as surprised. Him going to med school and all. No time for babies. God knows how they'll figure this out. I'm sure not going to help. Nope." Charlie shakes his head.

Sam knows he's full of shit. The moment he sees that bundle all soft andwrinkled, welcomed to the world and brand new, he will not be able to stay away. He'll help in every aspect of this couple's life.

Sam laughs. Charlie gets pissed. "This isn't funny," he says.

 _Oh, but it is._

Sam lets the laughter trail as he leaves Charlie simmering on the porch. He climbs down the steps and goes on his way to town and get his steps in. He hears Charlie grumble where he sits. It makes him laugh harder.

And just when he's sobering up and starts to whistle his hiking tune, he sees that fellow again. Not the striking one in fancy clothes and car. one with the baggage and the bin. This time, he sees him walk from behind some dense trees far enough away. There's no path where he is, but the edges of this camp where it was carved out to make room for civilized life on a campsite.

Sam must be lucky today to get such a glimpse that's so rare. Twice in one day.

He wonders if anyone else was as lucky as him.

He looks back at the couple. The fancy boy's hand is clasped around Bella's elbow as they talk and walk back to the house. They didn't see what he saw.

Sam whistles and thinks; it's a good day, maybe he'll get lunch at the diner today.

….


	25. Chapter 25 - Visible Cross

**A/N: Hello again. Back. Last chapter, Sam saw Edward. He didn't** **think much of it, but man, was it much of it. This next one starts off in her POV. Just a sneak of her side of the story—the wild, lively one. Thank you to Patrizia for staying with me, and prereading to help make sense of things. Thanks to Frannie for betaing, and always having animated questions. She asked me to tell you, or whoever is interested, that there's a new contest she's running—Crime Crusaders—over at Facebook group: / groups / 364646141068423 (paste that without spaces after .com on your Facebook url. Write a mysterious oneshot. Read others' oneshots. Check it out.**

 **Lots have happened in RL. One of them being birthing a kidney stone, but man, was it great to be out of work to WRITE! More when you hit next. Go read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 25 - Visible Cross**

 **BPOV - Months before**

Bella sighs. What has become of her life? She had plans, life goals, aspirations to be … well, nothing. She always felt like everyone around her was finding their place, getting to the next milestone; either college, graduating, marrying, 401k. All of it. She never did consider these things.

When you're in high school, those years revolve around worrying about everything. You have to decide what you'll be doing for the rest of your life. Would I become a doctor? A lawyer? A single, career-driven hipster who spends money on drinks and kale, and finds love on an app? At such a young age, you're pushed to make decisions.

Why?

You can barely function as a normal human, let alone decide on which loan you'll get to pay for college.

Bella sits in class and sighs again as the professor speaks to the massive room. Well, she decided on a loan. And now she's here. She sits in class and wonders if all the paperwork was worth it. Because, honestly, she doesn't want to be here. She isn't here. Her mind is elsewhere. Her soul in a clearing. Her heart warm under a quilt.

The tingles. They spread from her spine to the tip of her ring fingers. _Vena amoris_. She learned about that in human anatomy just last week. It's the single vein on your fourth finger that connects to the heart. They call it the vein of love. It is a sign of connection, which represents an interlacing of love … _if_ a ring looped around that digit. But what the professor, students, and even the people in her life don't know is how _he_ pressed his lips to her palm, right there, his slow surrender as his lips parted and his teeth grazed the skin over her _vena amoris_. It drove tingles up her arm, connecting to her heart. And she knew it was the best decision she ever made; going back to him.

Bella's eyes drift closed. She lets the visions take place. She burrows into her sweater more and finds the darkness behind her lids her canvas to recreate every breath, every touch, and every kiss they shared.

The bell chimes. The call that signals the hour is up. The class quickly goes into motion, as it stands to disburse. Bella doesn't notice. Because she's right at the moment in her memories where he gripped her tight and let himself be a giving human, not a reserved one. He never set fire in that camp, up until that night. They burned together.

A throat is cleared. One so close. Too close. And it's silent otherwise. Bella jumps. Her eyes wide, caught … because she's been caught.

Her cheeks redden. "S … sorry," she stutters as she piles her notebook on her books.

"You know," the professor begins to say, his blonde hair swept to the side neatly, his smile warm, but there's condescension behind it. "If you ask me, this is the most expensive seat in which to take a nap. All those fees added to tuition didn't include _snoozing._ Don't waste your precious Benjamins." He chuckles descending the steps to the auditorium.

Bella rolls her eyes as she stuffs her belongings into her bag. Students still millabout waiting at the front of the room for after-class questions. They all watch the awkward moment. She sighs in relief when the attention is off of her, as they talk about human behavior, the subject for today.

Her behavior today isn't one she's used to. This one was new. She's never dozed off in class. Not even in high school. She's exceedingly tired today, this week, for the past few weeks. She's mortified but relieved she's out and walking the corridors.

Ben spots her, and they seem to walk toward one another. Her eyes fluttering are enough where he notices. "You look like shit today." Said eyes roll at him. He shrugs. "Well, you do."

He takes another bite of his sandwich. It's tight in his fist, gripping the lettuce leaves and two bread parts enough so it won't self-destruct, Bella thinks. He is always eating. Always. He eats in the library. In class. Outside the bathrooms, everywhere. She doesn't understand where the calories go since Ben is as thin as he was in high school.

"Your mom made you lunch again?" Bella asks. She doesn't slow her stride. He catches up to her. He sighs.

"I regret giving her my schedule. She comes on campus and waits for me after class. She says, 'Yoo-hoo, Benny! I brought you lunch, your favorite!' And she stands there, and everyone stares."

Bella laughs like nothing mortifying just happened back there.

"I swear I had to jab a few dicks to keep their eyes to themselves. Like … what is her problem?!" He says annoyed, but he takes a bite anyway. Never will Ben refuse free food, or acknowledge that his mother dresses in clothes much smaller than her actual size. Men stare. Men are always interested. Ben; oblivious.

"Well, at least you've got a mother. Be nice, Benny," Bella reminds him with a soft smile. Ben's face goes gray. He nods and lets the sensitive subject go.

He smacks his lips together after sticking his tongue out to get that sucker—the dollop of mayo—back into his mouth. Bella glares, catching the clean sweep. She makes a face.

Her stomach curls, her tongue grows heavy, and suddenly everything reeks. She gags. The basin seems to be a mile away as she runs.

Ben watches a retching Bella bending over a trash bin in the middle of the corridor. He looks around. Some people look over.

Well, there goes his appetite.

He tosses the fistful of mess into the bin she's using. That just makes her go another round, as she heaves louder the moment she sees his sandwich in there.

"You shit," she punches his arm when she straightens. She wipes at her lips with a sleeve. She breathes. "You're disgusting,"

'Me?! You made everyone look."

Of course, she'd be stuck with Ben out of all people in this damn school. Everyone off in their Ivy League programs while Ben and Bella muscle through the mediocre one, a town over.

Between classes, they all meet in the middle at a café, and it doesn't suck as much.

Jen and Lauren are still on shaky ground. Lauren finally caught the tension. Well, it was loud and clear when she bumped into Jen and Riley as he left her cabin that summer; her in a robe, Riley a bit rumpled. She finally understood. And it hurt her. Jen cried for days, losing her best friend over a guy.

It all doesn't matter much now; they both lost him. He's not dead, though they both wish it were the case. Riley left for school to Europe. He, apparently, had made the decision long ago, no matter the girl.

To Lauren, it still matters. A bit. The memory of seeing Jen, her eyes tightly closed as she kissed her boyfriend, looked like something. Deep toe-curling love. She figures Jen is suffering enough.

She can live with that.

So it's two years later, and the girls sit at the same table in the cafe, and they don't talk about it. Just other things. All thanks to Bella's unfortunate event that brought them all together again in that funeral home.

Bella plops herself on the sofa when she arrives at the cafe. The girls both look up from their books.

"Wow," they harmonize. They'd be lying to themselves if they didn't see how similar they are as friends. They could never be mad at one another.

Bella rolls her eyes in chorus.

Ben is in line to buy something else to eat. This time, she will not look at him as he inhales the pastry. Over her dead body.

"Aunt flow, yo," Ben says around a bite as a way of explaining the mess on the sofa. Bella ignores him. The girls chuckle.

"Here," Lauren says, offering a Chapstick from her bag.

"Because that'll fix this?" Jen says, waving a hand at Bella. Lauren shrugs. She's still a bit … clueless if you asked Jen. College life hasn't matured her in the right ways.

Bella suddenly gets the urge to eat the cherry scented balm she is applying to her lips. She pockets the stick while Lauren is looking away.

Lauren starts the tangent for the day. "So, I have this essay on macroeconomics due on Friday …"

This is when Bella drifts off. Her hoodie comes up over her unruly hair and her eyes. This is routine. There's nothing here she can add to. Her classes aren't as complex. It bothers her to hear her friends' curriculum compared to hers. They argue about economics and social subjects like they actually know what they're talking about. It's infuriating to her. How did she end up on this path? Where did she go wrong?

Jen offers a glance her way, and empathy surges. She's told Bella time and again that she lost her mother, and it changed her course. She just needs to rest her mind. She'll get back on track soon. She swears it.

So Bella takes those words and accepts her snail-paced life. Calm comes over her. Usually, what follows is her mind wandering around things that make her feel whole.

It's been a few months, yet her body seems to go back to that place; right between his arms. Those tingles again. The warmth between them as she rolled over him, hooked a leg over his, and with the utmost care and softness, she reached up.

A kiss.

Bella jumps. She flails her arms to get her hoodie off. Jameson's face snaps that way when one of her fists connects. He cringes. He holds his cheek.

"What the shit?" he cries. He leans away from her. He saw her so peaceful when he arrived, he couldn't help but lean in and plant a good one on her red, plump lips.

He licks his. "Mm, cherry."

Bella sighs. Her hand rubs over his face as he sits by her. "Sorry."

"Point taken." Maybe sneaky kisses aren't their forte.

Ben is in stitches.

And if everyone at the table thinks they have to significant work to do, they've got something coming. Jameson pulls out book after medical book from his backpack and then takes his laptop out of another one. He carries two everywhere he goes, and he looks exhausted. Bella counts the bags under his eyes as two extra bags he always carries; she just doesn't tell him.

"What a couple," Jen mumbles sarcastically. The two on the couch do look a similar pair; a mess.

What no one really knows is they've barely been that. Just a pair. Nothing more than that.

Jameson is too busy with medical school to even scope out other options of women. His classes are all full of other tired students trying to make it through the semester. He's loyal. He's a good man. He held Bella's hand while they lowered her mother to the ground. From then on, they never talked about their relationship. Not seriously. Not about the obvious platonic love they have for one another.

Is she just the convenient partner? His closest friend who knows him best? His first? Maybe all of the above. But he still keeps her close to his heart, and close to his bed. It's the unspoken rule they never meant to set. They are good together.

Later, when I their break is over, he offers to take her to her dorm room. He is and will always be a gentleman. Even at the door, when she doesn't open it wide enough for him to come through, he gets it. No luck for him this time. Women need their space. He kisses her again, this time with hesitance and a smile, and tells her he'll see her again tomorrow.

Bella quickly strips and jumps into the shower—no roommate in to interrupt her this early. She pushes aside Alice's mess of opened and unopened boxes of tampons, toothpaste, condoms, and even the counterpart of those; pregnancy tests. She has everything in the bathroom cabinet. There it is, her new, but cheap, drugstore shampoo. Alice sneers at her choices. But Alice is also from old money. She's snotty but shares all her things. Bella knows she's a closeted, nice person.

To dream; that's what Bella seeks when she hurries to crawl into bed. Dreaming is what she rushes home for. It's the only time of day she freely gets to think of _him_. Like clockwork, she buries her face in her pillow and lets it soak up her tears. Without fail, Bella cries until she falls asleep.

This secret is heavy, too much for her to keep.

Who does she talk to? No one.

Where does she go for answers? Nowhere.

All she has are visuals of him.

Sleep. The only place she can escape to that isn't the woods.

The next morning, when Jameson isn't walking Bella to class like he's used to, he stops, he thinks about it, and wonders why today is different. He turns around to get to Bella's dorm, which is just by the campus.

He dials her number, and it rings and rings. No answer. He knocks and knocks on her door. No answer.

He dials Alice's number next. She picks up, but she hasn't been home all night. Her groggy voice tells him about the hidden spare key over the light fixture. Then he's lecturing her on the world's worst hiding spot.

He shrugs Alice off when she abruptly ends the call. He told her to grow up. She told him to fuck off. It's the typical reaction he gets from her. It doesn't stop him from speaking his mind. He's the one they call when the faucet is leaky, or a spider is found in the kitchen. Shit, they should pay him for maintenance.

"Bella?" he calls. Something awful forms in the pit of his belly. His steps speed up when he doesn't find her. He drops his bags on the floor and runs when he hears her cry. He could spot the sound anywhere, the memory of it against his shoulder, so many times in the past.

Her hair is in disarray, covering half her face. Her nightshirt sags, revealing a creamy shoulder. Her legs are tucked under her where she melted to the floor. The bathroom is dark, and the contents of the cabinet are scattered on the floor.

She's sobbing, and the stick bobs between her fingers with the force. Her hand occupied on her lap, light blue cap, a white, bulky stick with a visible cross in the center.

His knees give out.

He's not ready for this. Maybe he never will be. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. All the internal monologues zip around his brain, but it only takes a second, just before his knees connect with linoleum.

"Bella?" he calls again, different this time.

No way she's going to answer him.

Jameson doubles over, fingers over his shaved head. He grieves silently. His busy life has just turned chaotic. He watches her. He watches her very closely. It takes a moment, but it's inevitable.

"When was your last period?" Jameson—the smart, sharp, empathetic medical student—chimes in.

….


	26. Chapter 26 - Go Find Him

**A/N: Going back in time a bit. Remember them swimming naked in the lake watching the stars? Where if Edward wasn't wet, he'd be nervous sweating? Yup. That part. Let's continue there. Thank you for the reviews. Love to read them smiling and happily cross-eyed.**

* * *

 **Chapter 26 - Go Find Him**

 **BPOV - Two years ago, after their lake swim**

Bella dreams every night of dark water on skin. She dared to do it. She bites her lip in class to keep the fitting giggles at bay.

His face. He was so speechless. Guys. She rolls her eyes. They're all the same. Any male, even unwilling, let their jaw hang, maybe a little tongue with it, at the sight of skin. He was so transfixed the moment Bella pulled off her dress at the dock, the last night of summer.

That night, as Renee stacked up all the bags and boxes by the door to take home, Bella hurried to finish gathering her things from her room. She needed so badly to go back to him one last time, to tell him she would be leaving for the summer.

She learned so much from him these past few months. She meddled and pushed until he actually spoke to her. Her beach chair created a dent on the soft ground right by his tent; it was her escape every morning; to watch him, to talk to him, ask him questions he never answered. Until he did. He began to speak. Now her notebook is full of information about him, ready to be researched. Among those pages are words describing the night she slept in his arms on July fourth. The mortification she felt waking up and remembering the terrifying noises at night and her willingness to crawl out of his bed and curl up beside him on the floor.

It was heavenly.

Bella smiles this time remembering. The high school calculus teacher spitting out formulas on the board, and Bella only sees Edward's reaction to her body.

She sighs. That was the most perfect night, swimming naked in a lake, hand in hand with Edward. Him turning to look at her every once in a while. The silence around them, but the loud feelings.

Oh, she knows he felt something. He felt her presence for the first time all summer. His eyes opened. His loneliness sought out companionship; a coupling. He wanted her that night in that water.

Bella should feel guilty. Maybe she does a little. She smiles again, flipping her pencil in her hand. No. She loved every second of it. Taunting him. She dared to, and she did. Leaving him with the memory of her until she goes back to him. And when she goes back, he won't resist. He'll take her in his arms and kiss her. He'll tell her how crazy she made him all winter.

Her secret.

She can hardly wait for finals to come, graduation, and spring to end. She wants so badly to go back.

Class ends, and she gathers her things. Blissful Bella doesn't know that at home, as she'll walk up to the house, an ambulance will be there pushing her very ill mother on a gurney.

All giddiness will melt to worry.

...

"Bella, don't fret," Renee says, yet there are tears in her eyes. "Everything will work out."

Bella is bent over Renee's hospital bed, her hand in hers. She cries. The doctor just left the room. The diagnosis, a hard pill to swallow.

A death sentence.

Charlie stands by the window and stares out. All the raging thoughts in silence.

Renee reaches out a hand toward him. "Babe," she calls. He doesn't turn. Her hand drops to the mattress. Renee knows he won't be the same. Anger has taken over. She always needs to give him room to process. It was the same the day she told him she was pregnant with Bella. They were so young. Charlie heard her confession and took a walk. When he came back, he melted at her feet and gently placed a kiss where a tiny Bella matured and grew.

This is the opposite of life. How will he live without her? He can't. He won't.

Charlie walks out of the hospital room to take that walk. Renee sighs. She knows he'll be back. He always comes back.

"We need to hope and fight, it's all we can do," she says to Bella—to the air, the universe. She will fight. This cancer will not take her.

So, it's what she does. She fights, and she hopes. Charlie and Bella do too. As the day the doctor said would be her last, comes and goes, the Swan family gains more hope. Renee is still herself.

Summer comes and all of Bella's anticipations in seeing Edward again fade. She isn't thinking of him as much. She just worries and keeps busy caring for her mother.

Graduation passes; a day Renee couldn't make. Charlie kept the phone live and streaming just so she could watch Bella walk across the stage to get her diploma. Then, at the end, when she stepped off the stage, Charlie was there to hug and congratulate her. All they did was cry over each other's shoulders.

Bella dedicates her summer to her mother. Then fall. Then winter. The appointments, the hand holding while chemo seeps through her veins at the hospital on a recliner. Bella reads her excerpts from the books she buys.

Regularly, Bella wonders if Edward would like the book she picked out at the bookstore. She roams through the aisles and finds the most eccentric subjects he would find fascinating. Thinking of him is the only way to keep him close. She always wonders what he was up to, what he ate; if it was enough, did he lose weight? She reads to Renee and pretends all the smart, broodingly handsome protagonists are him.

Charlie always seems to keep busy. It's how he learns to cope. He goes back to the camp that summer without Bella or Renee to make sure the cabin made it safely through the winter. He goes with Renee's yearly supplies and photos in his hand to adorn the walls.

Bella wants so badly to jump in the back seat of the car as she watches him go. She lets the tears flow as she watches the car grow smaller in the distance.

Every night she cries. The tears are for her mother, but also for the pain she feels in her heart for not making the trip. She can't send word. She can't let him know she thinks of him. She hopes that with will and might alone, he could sense her apology for not making it to him.

Renee hears her daughter sniffle and cry at night. At first, she thinks it's because of her. She feels defeated, guilty that she's letting her only daughter down. She feels her health deteriorating and is powerless to stop it. There is nothing she could do.

But then, Bella's crying nights happened too regularly, too frequently. She'd watch her daughter get lost in thought for hours. She knows her like a muscle memory, like the involuntary actions one takes to breathe or blink. Renee blinks and notices Bella doesn't as she stares out at trees outside the windows.

Bella has a secret.

She doesn't ask. Renee lets it settle like dust in corners of places. She waits for Bella to open up. It'll burst. She knows it. It's only a matter of time.

When she ends up in the hospital again that winter, Renee feels like time is slipping from her fingers. Still, Bella doesn't confess what she waited patiently to hear.

It must be something monumental. It must be life changing or heartbreaking. Why else would Bella not budge?

"Sweetheart," she calls her. Bella finally blinks out of her daily reverie. "I can't hold on much longer. You have to tell me."

Like words could ignite a fire in her, Bella bursts into tears. Renee figures this is worse than she expected. She thinks of all the tragedies it could be. Did she kill someone? Did she commit a crime? Is someone after her? Or worse, is she pregnant?

"Spit it out," she encourages. "You're scaring me."

Bella sighs and takes a breath. "I'm in love," she finally says.

Renee breathes a sigh of relief. She knows she doesn't speak of Jameson. They haven't spoken for the longest time. It must be someone else. "Then why do you constantly look so depressed, isn't it a good thing?" Bella doesn't laugh. This must be bad.

"Because he's far away. He's difficult to reach, and I can't see him."

Renee hmphs. "Long distance relationships," she says, staring up at the ceiling. "I get it's hard, but not impossible." She interjects. "What's the problem?" Her daughter is quiet. She pushes. "Where does he live? Did you meet him online?"

Bella laughs slightly, but it's twisted with grief and humorlessness.

"He lives in the campsite."

Renee furrows what little is left of her brows. A bandana is wrapped around her head to keep the balding spots from view. Charlie has kissed them and said how beautiful she looks anyway. Bella thinks so, too.

"Lives there? But it's a vacation spot. Which cabin?"

Bella stays quiet.

Renee gets it. "You're mad because you couldn't go with your father. You should've. I would've been fine."

Bella sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "No. It's not that." Then she melts into more tears. "You'd kill me."

"I won't. I couldn't if I tried. Keeping hands to self. No hair pulling or yelling. I promise." Renee lifts her arms from the bed, trying to lighten the mood. Bella doesn't even crack a smile.

The pit in Renee's belly gapes. She's dreadfully worried now. Bella was never the type to feel this hard. Bella is a spontaneous, free-spirited, realist. She doesn't brood or hide in silent hurt. She is loud about what she feels.

"I know you, baby. If it's this much, it has to be a good story. Tell me a story." Renee encourages.

Bella sighs. "You've heard of him already. Everyone has. Even the camp sheriff. For years he's been infamous, yet, no one can seem to find him." Bella blinks up at her mother whose lips have gone round with question. "What do they hatefully call him, Mom? What's his name?"

Renee is speechless.

Bella nods. "I found him. I've known him for two summers now. You've cooked meals for him that I served in bowls, remember those? He's been in our cabin, in my room, in yours. He's even borrowed things from Dad. He's already part of the family," Bella says sarcastically.

Bella glances at her mother. "Don't worry. He's harmless. I might be the worst thing that's ever happened to him."

Renee swallows this heavy load. She breathes. Her eyes drift closed, and of course, her daughter would be involved in something like this. She couldn't just be a normal kid. She had to go for the unexpected.

"Where does he live?"

"Not in a cabin. He only takes from them to survive."

"Where, Bella?"

She wipes her tears and looks over at her mother. "In the middle of the woods. Alone. For nearly ten years."

Renee let's out a breath. She pulls her arms over her head and watches the ceiling. Bella can't help but feel tears springing again. She knew no one would understand.

"Bella, do you realize how …"

"Don't. Don't you dare lecture me," she interrupts. "I've met a human who is the kindest, most passionate I've ever had the honor to meet. He's good. He's …"

"A criminal," Renee finishes.

Bella melts by her mother in her sorrow. She sobs. Regretting ever opening her mouth.

Renee's heart breaks. For hours, it seems, Bella cries. Never has her daughter felt this much.

"Okay. Get up," she orders her. "Look at me." Bella slowly does. "You're in love, you're a woman now? Fine. Help me understand. Tell me everything. I want every detail."

So Bella does. She tells her about the time Sam and Charlie hiked one morning. "Remember, when you made me go with them or scrub the floors? Well, Sam told us about this young guy living in the woods. Sam knows who he is and what he's been doing all these years," she says as a way of justifying her secret of a wanted man. She tells her how she went out every night to go find him, and when she did, she fell.

"I woke up in his … campsite."

"Jesus, Bella," Renee complains. "Have I taught you nothing?" Bella rolls her eyes.

"I was fine!" she says with a huff. "I … terrified him. He's not crazy. He just wants to be alone." Renee's expression is blank. "Look, I've done the research. There are documented people all through history just like him. Monks are among them. He's not doing it for religion, he just … felt like he never fit into society.

"Mom, you know I'm not normal. You've known it all along. How many times have you thought to yourself that your daughter isn't typical like her friends?"

Renee gives her a side eye. "What, now you're telling me you'll go off into the woods to live with him? Forget college, forget normal living? You commit crimes together?" Bella seems to have her eyes swimming in her sockets with how many times she rolls them.

She stands to walk away. "If you're going to be this negative, I won't say anything else." Renee lifts her hands in surrender. She keeps quiet.

"He's different. I … understood him. I was the first person he's ever spoken to in the time he's been there. Do you know how hard it was to read him, get him to open up?"

"Why is this suddenly your job to do?" Renee deadpans.

Bella looks at her mother square in her eyes, and with all that she can muster, she tells her the honest truth. "Because I'm crazy about him. I can't stop thinking about him. Winters go by, and I wonder if he even made it, if I'll find him dead. And I'm the only person who would ever care."

Renee watches her daughter's life flash before her eyes in an instant; Bella, living in a cabin, waiting for a man for the rest of her life who won't ever commit. Sadness strikes her. Bella will never give this up. She'll run over anything or anyone in her path to do what she wants. Her dedication for another person never was this passionate. Renee fears for everything that will happen when she's no longer on earth.

"And tell me," she says to her daughter. "Does he feel the same for you?"

Bella sighs tiredly. She slouches in a chair and gives up. Tears fall silently. She knows he does, she just has to see him, talk to him, make him see the feelings have always been there for him as well.

For days Renee watches her. She takes in all she's said time and again. She always knew she'd have to let Bella fly on her own one day, and maybe this is the perfect time. When she's gone, she won't be here to coddle, encourage, or warn. Her child will make mature decisions, and she'll have to learn from them alone.

The day Renee's health turns for the worst, all she can think about is leaving an unhappy child behind. She accepts. She lets go of fear and grabs hold of Bella's hand desperately.

"Life is short. You know exactly what to do with yours. Not many ever get the chance. So, go, Bella. Go find him."

Bella sobs. Never in all her life did she think her mother's last words to her would be those. Relief and elation seep through her bones. She promises her mother with a goodbye kiss and a final declaration of love.

….


	27. Chapter 27 - The Canoe Sways

**A/N: Long ass journey. Sorry for the delay. I hope you had a great summer. I can't believe it's over, but then, jackets and boots. So, yay.**

 **This is the start of a long process of getting these chapters in a good place—to get Bella's POV and what she went through. You've read about it in his POV, but there will be details you won't want to miss on how things happened in her side of the story.**

 **Chap 25 was a sneak peek of 2 years in the future when she's taken THE test that broke the news to Jameson. This is the continuation of chap 26, when it's all leading up to chapter 25. I had to tell a bit of that timeline since, in my mind, it's too good not to tell. It's her crystal clear, realistic side of the story, while Edward's was very ... vertiginous, and resistant.**

 **I'll let you know when we're back to present day (continuation of chap 25).**

 **FRIYAY!**

* * *

 **Chapter 27 - The Canoe Sways**

 _ **BPOV - Continued**_

 _Go find him._

Words like a balm. Bella holds Jameson's hand, he grabbed on. She's holding on for dear life. Maybe she'd crumble here and now, on the dirt, over her mom.

Why does it always seem to rain on burial days? Bella thinks it mirrors her feelings. The tears never stopped the moment the hospital room grew silent. Bella sat there, Charlie too. His hands still on his wife, trying to hold on to the warmth still left in her after her last breath.

It felt like an eternity sitting there. Bella just envisioned her mother floating away through the clouds as she looked out the window. Is that how one goes? She wouldn't know. What she does know is she'd give anything to go where her mother went.

She thinks that as her shoes dig into soft ground. The red roses on the white casket move with the wind. She'd go where the wind leads; away from here.

She could just picture it, Edward holding her tight, condolences whispered in her ear. His calm soul is what would make her raging heart, beat steadily.

 _Go find him._

She would leave now if time and appropriateness allowed. She'd run to her dad's car, rev the engine, and swerve off.

She looks up at Jameson. He has a car. He can take her. She conjures up plans just then, and they make her feel alive.

…

The canoe sways.

Bella lets her tears be washed away by the rain. It comes down hard, just like the realization that what she saw wasn't at all what she'd hoped.

She's hoped for so long.

Jameson kissed her hair and assured her he'd be back. He was all eyes on her. They sat in her living room after the fit of screams and shouts. Charlie's eyes grew red with tears of his own. He's stressed, too. Hurt. But watching Bella break down after he told her their summer at the cabin had ended, was the last straw. He wasn't expecting Bella to react the way she did.

"Your mother is gone. She's not here anymore!" he shouted.

Bella screamed a tortured agony. The vase flew across the room, crashing into the fireplace. Her eyes sunken. Her skin pale and dry. Her clothes too large around her shoulders.

Charlie thought that was it, that was their breaking point. They've fought, but not like this. It took months, but at least they were letting it all out; the pain of losing a loved one.

"We have to try our best at letting go," Charlie said to end it. His arms at his knees, slouched over the sofa, tired. But what he didn't know was the desperation in his daughter on another subject altogether.

No one gets it. No one understands. And why would they? No one on earth is aware of her mission.

Bella cried for keeping things from him. She wanted so badly to explain this misunderstanding.

Now she sits in a canoe, and it sways as she cries. Just back there, when she stood in the living room, she thought she saw him. A movement in the woods. Bella looked out the window to stare at the expanse of the forest, to think about how wrong everything went; looking for him. The attempt, the fail to find that mysterious man she once knew.

She looked out there and saw something. A figure far away, just beyond the lake. A shoulder, a dark cloak, weaving through the trees.

Bella tore out of the cabin, down through the campsite, and toward the lake in a sprint. She pulled a canoe, and just as she jumped in, to row herself to the other side, the sky opened.

The rain suffocated her. She heaved through the pull and the push of water, the paddle dipping time and again.

How foolish of her.

A few campsite neighbors screamed and bellowed as they ran out of the woods to take cover. Their joys and laughter loud between the strikes of thunder as their large black raincoat waved in the strong wind above them. Their clothes barely dry as they hunched under the fabric.

Bella didn't see _him_ , she saw _them_.

Her shoulders dropped, so did the paddle. The thunk, as it slipped into the water, was barely audible as the rain poured down.

How foolish of her.

How foolish.

Bella thinks now, as she cries, this is it, this is the breaking point. Nothing is worth the chance. She did everything she could.

Maybe she'll give up. Maybe she'll finally let go. A light in her dims, making her feel lifeless.

The canoe sways.

...


	28. Chapter 28 - Edward is Real

**A/N: Let me know if you have questions. I'd love to know how many are out there reading. xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 28 - Edward is Real**

 _BPOV - Continued_

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Jameson yells in her face.

Jameson knew about her downfall, her emotional state, but he never knew it would go this far. He kept his eyes on her. Drove her to the cabin himself like she asked. She was determined to make it there as soon as they both could. He didn't know why. He guessed it was the last place her mother was alive.

He supported her. Cherished her. Calmed her when she needed it. He couldn't leave her alone in these painful moments.

What he didn't know was her true intention. To find Edward and make him see just how much he changed her.

Then, on the day things got tense at the Swan cabin, he was there to listen to them yell and shout. He came in and dared to stay so daughter and father would find a truce. When it became calm and the time was right, Jameson stepped out to run errands for his mother. Bella rowed out in a canoe once he did. No one in their right mind would go out in the rain in a canoe … would they?

He was a lunatic trying to find her, and when he did, she made the jump.

Bella doesn't answer Jameson's furious question. She breathes in the fullness of air.

 _Air is good. Remember that, Bella._

She desperately wipes her face of water and sand, then squints. Yes, it _is_ him. All she sees is Edward running away.

She looked for him for days, weeks, and then months. She looked and looked for him every morning until she was tired and forced to walk back to the cabin before Jameson showed up at her door, or Charlie awoke. Sometimes she'd hike from midnight until the break of dawn. Yet, no bend to a turn, or coupling of trees looked familiar. Not one path.

Her heart was torn. She cried. She was going mad.

She barely ate. Barely slept. She kept the pain all to herself. To everyone else, she looked to be mourning Renee. She was. But there was something else to grieve for.

Her secret was just in her head. Maybe none of it happened? Maybe she never met a stranger in the woods two years ago. Maybe she never packed up food in a bag. Never headed out of the cabin very early in the morning, quietly, as to not wake her parents.

Maybe all the memories of fireflies around their hands, a tent, a mushroom, or a hammer melded in bark, were all from a story she read years ago in a book. A book with pages torn at the end, never to find out what happened next.

So, she had hope. All of it. Yet, nothing was turning out the way she wished every night.

Edward was but a figment of her imagination.

Spring passed, then summer. She refused to pack her bags to go back home to the city. Charlie and Jameson worried the day she broke down in fits of sobs saying she'd never leave.

She gave in to despair. It was stupid, but like a death call, it brought him to her. As if life was holding out its breath for this moment.

Jameson picks her up off the sand now, but her eyes are still stuck to that silhouette far away. Her eyes opened, and she definitely thought she was dead a minute ago. She knew she wasn't in some blissful afterlife with _him_. He was soaking wet above her as his clothes clung to him. He was angry, so angry. Fear in his eyes.

She blinks hers.

Edward is real.

….


	29. Chapter 29 - Her Grim Solace

**A/N: Again, you've read this in his POV (chap 22 - Her Solace), now see Bella's process. Send questions or love. I'll love you back. xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 29 - Her Grim Solace**

 _BPOV - Continued_

Her chest still aches from what he had to do to give her life, but more so now that she's here. It aches but a thousand times more.

Why did it take so long for her to get here?

She looks at his gaping mouth as he watches her walk in through the boulders. Those lips had to give her life, now they're unmovable, speechless.

She tentatively walks closer. He sits there sipping out from his favorite mug like nothing ever happened. He ran away from the shore and never looked back.

Two days have passed after the shore. She had to come and find him again, one last time, but she had ruined things. Jameson didn't trust her. He watched her every move. He didn't let her out of his sight.

She cringed. Her stupid impulse. The canoe, the rain, the jump. She felt her heart give out before she even decided to let go. God, if Charlie knew. She'd die. Again. She'd be so ashamed if he knew what she did.

She begged and begged Jameson not to tell a soul. She was in bed. She refused to go to the hospital to be checked. He stared down at her with such disappointment. Bella couldn't look at him.

It didn't matter.

All she remembered was the look on Edward's face. Finally seeing him. Her chest in pain. Her mouth warm. She coughed up all the water she swallowed. Then swallowed up all the shame.

But she couldn't take it anymore. She snuck out while Jameson slept peacefully beside her, seeing as he watched her sleep the entire night before. Worried. Trying to figure out who this Bella was. The person he knew would never hurt herself.

She laid a kiss on his cheek and tied her shoes to leave.

Now she's here, she's found him. She took the right turns, down the right path, and then suddenly... it was as if she hadn't struggled for months.

He watches her transfixed.

"Where have you been?" She's fire. Burning. Her lips pale, eyes raging. "I walked and walked, and you weren't here!" she shouts.

Edward lets the mug in his hand dip. He blinks a few times. It is her. She's alive, breathing, looking at him with such anger. He dug her up from the lake. The dead weight on his shoulders. She's been a weight on his shoulders for quite some time. He's felt it. She left, years ago, the drips of lake water from her body as she slipped on her dress was all that was left on that dock.

"Where did you go?" she shouts some more. Her fists claw at the air. "I needed you. I … couldn't find you."

"I'm here," he pushes through his lips.

"You were gone! I couldn't remember. Every day, all summer, I looked for you. I walked for hours to look for you. You left me!"

"I've been right here!" he shouts. It is loud. It echoes far and beyond the trees.

Bella takes it in, the power in his words. Never has he raised his voice. She tries to calm. This isn't what she planned to do once she'd gotten here. She was supposed to express her undying love. Renee told her to find him. She _finally_ has, and now she's yelling.

She cries. She feels ridiculous.

"I tried," she stammers. "And I couldn't remember." Her hands fall at her sides. Her chin trembles. "My mother died … and you know who I wanted to tell first? You. Of course, you. I was so sure you'd know exactly what to say to make it feel okay." She shakes her head. "It's been so long I … I didn't know how to find you again." She waves her arms around the camp.

He's quiet, but like a magnet, she takes a step anyway. Oh, how she yearns to be close. She doesn't care. She has to feel him. Her cheek finds his chest, but he's stiff.

Minutely, as she dares to curl her arms around him, he relaxes. His heartbeats thunder in her eardrum. She closes her eyes and lets this moment calm her.

He calms her.

Her solace.

The whooshing of her heart is deafening, like she's back in the water, letting go, gulping it up into her lungs purposely. Why would she ever decide to die and not feel this one last time?

She takes a deep breath, and his scent consumes her. The tips of her fingers dipping over the collar of his shirt by his neck. She watches the tanned skin, months of hiking, breaking into houses to find what he needs. He's strong now. His chest hard, the muscles in his back set in his broad shoulders. She hangs on for dear life.

With the utmost gentleness, she turns her face and presses her lips to his neck. He doesn't move. So, she tries again. This time, she points her toes and reaches up to kiss his chin. She lingers there. His breath catches. His lips just above where she wants to go next.

But he speaks. "I don't make anything okay. I don't make … anything." He points. The angry words vibrating against her chest.

His grim.

He opens his eyes, and she sees fire.

She lets her hand slip out of his hair, the other from around him. She steps back. Rejection is a burning sting. She knew it. It was in her gut, the feeling she suppressed; this was just a fantasy.

"It was just in my mind," she whispers. "All of it." she nods to herself. She pinches her lips with fingertips and thinks hard on what this really means. But she remembers them in the lake together, so long ago. The way he looked at her. Their hands clutching the other watching stars above.

"You didn't feel a thing for me, did you?" she asks. Her teeth gnaw at her lips, sheepishly; devastated, embarrassed.

Faintly, he shakes his head. "I'm built not to. It's how I am."

Of course. Why would she ever think the opposite? She's not an exception. Her mother's words shaming every bone in her body, curling up her insides, telling her that Renee was right.

She nods, but inside she's in pieces.

Bella tries to leave there as fast as she can, defiantly dismissing him, declaring she'll move on with life and college. Her head held high as she flees from where she came.

What he'll never do is go after her like he used to. No guiding her out to a path with his careful steps. No brush of his shoulder against hers to lead the way. She holds her breath, but he doesn't come.

Edward will never see her shoulder sag on a tree, never hear the echoes of her sorrow.

….


	30. Chapter 30 - In Her Eyes

**Chapter 30 - In Her Eyes**

 _BPOV - Continued_

The woods are dark. Bella fears no more.

She's hurt. She's devastated.

She left Edward's campsite that morning, but in her room, she sat, and she simmered—skipping every meal Charlie offered.

He'd knock on her bedroom door, and it echoed. Nothing. He gave up. He let her grieve in her room like he's been accustomed to doing himself. With Renee now gone, he needs moments of isolation, too. Bella didn't hear her dad at the door, just her raging heart.

How dare Edward dismiss what she knows they had? Years couldn't drive them apart. She knew. Yet, she was wrong. He marched her right out of there, even after saving her life.

Oh, how Bella cried that morning.

She left, but her heart stayed at his feet.

Now, the light of the moon shines the little bit she needs. She's going back to him. She refuses to let it end like this. What will she say when she's finally there at his tent? What would he say? Would he reject her again?

Let him yell, she thinks. Let him open up, wake up. Let him feel. She wants him to feel something.

Darkness has swallowed up his campsite. The boulders overshadow most of it, but it's so perfect here, even the moon sits just above the trees. Everything caters to him. Moonlight pours over his tent just enough for Bella to find it. Maybe this will be the last time she will.

Silence so saturated, the leaves sing, the wind its chorus. No man-made cacophony could be heard. She thinks how perfect his life is as she stops at the break of the tent.

She looks inside.

It's slow, but his eyelid flickers. The other under the back of his hand where it gently lies over a tired face, his other cradles his head. He doesn't sleep. He wouldn't be. Not after the storm Bella stirred that morning. It whirls in his mind, every word on loop. He can't rest.

Now, this, he thinks; the Lady of the Woods returns and stands at the break of the tent, taunting him again.

His chest is bare as it rises and falls. He closes the only visible eyelid and lets his palm open to shield both. Tired. Shredded. Like he has gone hiking for days, broke into cabins without a stop, and he's catching his breath.

Bella bites her lip. She looks out, then back in. For an instant, she feels like she'll run away.

But her feet are stuck here. She can't move.

They're silent, but they're both saying so much. She says she'll never give up, and he says he already has, long ago.

Her courage makes her take a step. His foggy brain keeps him still. She pulls on the quilt that's over him and makes room for herself, just like in every aspect of their relationship. She must. He won't budge.

The warmth is so dizzying this close, she sighs. This is where she's yearned to be. She gently lays her head on the bend of his arm and stretches out her legs by his.

Maybe she'll sleep, and that's enough. Just a night of having him close. She can move on with her life in the morning, even if it hurts. For now, she basks in this bliss as hours seem to melt away along with tense muscles; his.

What breaks the delicate bubble of silence—the brink of sleep—is a curious owl. The hoot is so sharp and near, her hand finds his. Instantly, he reciprocates. Fingers curling up around hers.

Just her thumb can reach his lips where their hands entwine. And when those two meet with her gentle caress, his lips part. He accepts.

He watches this Lady. She's different. She looks so much like the curious girl he knows. The same one who declared her deep-rooted feelings just hours ago. Every curve of her face is the same, the arch of her brow, the shape of her trembling lips. He presses his to her palm he holds.

Bella can't seem to breathe with his reaction. She barely whimpers when his teeth grazes soft skin.

That's all it takes. She won't hold back. She'll regret if she does.

Digging an elbow into the bed, she closes in. Lips so close, she lets the inevitable spark take its course. He'll reach up and let them touch. She knows he will.

Like the night at the lake, the sight of Bella's soft skin struck him; the dip at the small of her back, the peaks at her breasts, the dark water pebbling over her skin, he remembers, and this feels the same.

He would be lying to himself if he denies ever thinking of Bella that way, right here, in his bed. Hot or blistering cold days could not erase the memory of her body glistening, wet. A burnt exposure when he closes his eyes.

He reaches up. He lets their lips touch.

There's that. The finality. The ending note. A conclusion to all the restraint and fight.

The owl flaps its wings, and even the bird leaves the couple to be as it flies away from the campsite.

Their kiss isn't fast, it's a slow burn. Their exploration is steady and fragile. Bella barely moves but her lips over his. He lets go. He stares at this familiar face. His brows furrowed with focus.

This Lady's lips feel the same as Bella's, but warm now.

Bella lets his eyes wander as she braves to tell him how grateful she is that he saved her life. That's what she meant to say earlier. That and so many other things. Her undying love with it.

She doesn't get to say anything. He simply kisses her once more.

His fingers braid through her hair, and he's feeling that atom of curiosity. It always grows until it completely takes over, despite the rules of his kingdom. Just like the nerve it takes to find a new place to break into, he takes this very moment as such—a rule-bending decision.

Bella is so eager. Her heart could burst. She hugs him as he leans over to her.

She knew it. She knew he wanted her. Tears blur the little bit of light she can see him in. She just lets herself feel when his hands begin to find those curves he remembers. She takes back her embrace, lays her hands and head on his pillow, and allows this to progress—the impending spark between two individuals who've waited for too long, wanted for too long.

She doesn't have to budge; Edward finds his place. It's instant, no thinking. He balls his fists around her shirt and holds on like she'll disappear once again.

She won't.

She lets him lead wherever he wants this to go. She's done her part. She's lead them both here. She watches him move willfully, dipping below to press his lips where his hands go. He budges now; her legs. She burrows beneath him. He alludes, she breathlessly follows suit.

The quiet campsite finds the pair skin to skin, all the layers pulled off with frantic hands. Like time turned back and they're bare, floating once again in the lake. Edward sees it the same, just as it played behind his eyelids for two whole years, twenty-four full moons. What he wanted to do in that dark, cool water, he does now to this woman. Every bit of himself wrapped around her, inside her. He burrows in, sighs by each other's ears.

The stars he's accustomed to seeing, are not above, but clear in her eyes.

...


	31. Chapter 31 - Crazy Virgin Mary

**A/N: legit sitting in a chair, mom beside me in the ER for tonight. Its long coming, so no sleep i can barely type this. Posting anyway to keep awake. we're back to Bella with Jameson in her bathroom and one used pregnancy test. Now everything thatt happens after moving forward.**

 **thanks a million for the reviews! xoxox**

* * *

 **Chapter 31 - Crazy Virgin Mary**

 _BPOV - Back in the Bella's bathroom_

Jameson's eyes dry up minutely as he stares at the droplets that gather over the film of the shower curtain. The drip, drip, drip of another leaky faucet he might have to fix are like jackhammers in this silence. His chest hammers the same.

He hasn't touched Bella. She sits in the same spot by the sink, the pregnancy test stick now on the floor. She starts to cry again; the tears dripping onto her nightdress, where they darken the fabric.

That's when his eyes sting as they seal shut. He hates when she cries. It tears at him. But right now, it tears at him in another way. The realization, the math was figured out. They don't match.

She said the dates. He counted his fingers and stopped. _It can't be. No, it has to be_. He counted again, and again, his mind a blur of scenarios.

Months ago. _Months_. That's the result of the equation.

Bella knew. Her lip wedged between her teeth, hiccupping her sobs away, as she watched him count.

Then the silence.

Bella crawls to him. He pulls back, gives her a burning look. She freezes where she kneels, and this will kill her; that look, that cold rejection. A warm Jameson is never indifferent to her.

He has reason now. So many weighted reasons.

"I'm sorry," she says, shaking her head. "So sorry. Please." She reaches out a hand to no avail. "I can't do this alone."

"You haven't been. I've been here, every damned second, Bella. When … how?" Jameson jerks a hand in the air, catching himself. "Well, we clearly know how!" He sighs after shouting. He rubs his face.

Bella lays on the floor. She tosses around and curls herself into a ball as she sobs.

Jameson would leave, but he's stuck where he is, genuinely curious about an affair. When could it have possibly happened right under his nose? He's not crazy. There were no signs. Bella grieves. That's her passing time now. She grieves, she goes to school, eats, and sleeps. She's barely consciously present, even in social gatherings. Everyone has grown used to it. This is her phase in life where she gets nothing out of it.

Bella is but a shell of what she used to be. And it was justified. Fully validated. Just temporary.

There were no signs there. Were there?

"It's yours. I know it. It has to be," Bella tries to reassure.

"You conceived three months ago." James interrupts dryly.

"Don't say this to me," she begs.

"You haven't had your period for months."

"James," she pleads.

"I didn't touch you then!"

Bella sucks in a breath at the shout. Yes, she knows this. She just cannot believe it. She tumbled upon tampons in the cabinet, remembered, then _remembered_. She couldn't recall the last time she had to use one. The other box for the test was to the right. Her heart dropped. She knew just then all the odd changes to her body, her moods, they were all proof.

"Bella, you're never out of my sight." Jameson is calm this time when he speaks. "Explain this to me. I'm honestly curious."

Bella picks herself up. She sniffs away any remnant tears and sighs.

"Only Mom knows this; no one else on earth. And she told me before she died … that … that I should follow my heart because she understood. It took a long time for her to understand. It's all I ask of you—to try. And I'll understand that you may never." She nods.

Jameson knits his brows in confusion.

"I was ready to let it go. I was learning," she says. Her lip trembles. "Now this …" her balled hands fall at her lap.

"What could Renée possibly encourage that would completely deceive me?"

Bella gives him a sharp look. "Has it?" she asks bluntly. "Have we been completely honest with one another?" She waves a finger between them. "This is a convenience. We're convenient. We've drifted. There's no glue here, James. We just care for one another. That's why I still love you."

The words 'in love' are lacking there. It doesn't escape him. But he listens. He's all ears.

"I guess, I screwed up. I did." She nods. "I committed myself to horrible things. But if you ask me, I'd do them again."

Jameson scoffs with a humorless laugh. He begins to stand. To run out? He doesn't know.

Bella reaches and pulls him back by his shirt. "That didn't come out the right way. What I meant to say was, this isn't typical. I wouldn't go on with it. I wouldn't go out of my way every summer for years, sneak out of the cabin at dawn or at midnight, pray to god no one would follow me. Blindly search through the dark trails, hiking for hours to find the same path beyond the lake where I found him. I wouldn't have betrayed you for anything less."

Jameson lets his muscles relax back into place. He's intrigued. His enigmatic brain tries to make the connections. He has to ask.

"Who did you find in the woods?"

Bella watches him. It's only a matter of time. She waits for it; the moment those brilliant sparks in his brain she depends on, solves the puzzle. A thief living in the woods was always the conversation around the lake during summers.

He knows _who_.

His eyes slightly widen. His mouth gapes as his chest seems to let out all the air.

"Bella …"

Just her name being called that way make pins and needles prickle at her eyes again. A blurred astonished Jameson before her.

She nods at him.

"He's not a stranger to you." Bella tucks in her legs and lets the image of Edward's eyes come back to her. She promised she would forget him after that night of bliss in his bed, but now he's engraved in her for life. "You're such a compassionate person, James, you would thank him for pulling me out of the lake. You wouldn't resent him." She peeks up at him from the corner of her eye.

Jameson feels the second pang to his chest. Another blow that takes his breath away, another to curl his stomach in disbelief. Faintly, it comes to him. A tall man, dark sunken eyes, pale wet skin as he gave life to Bella, mouth to mouth. Jameson thought, how kind of a stranger to do what he did, to go the mile. All along, they were connected. He went the mile to save her because she was his.

Jameson stands. He leans over the sink. Bella follows him with her eyes vigilantly, like dynamite will set off. He cups water in his hands, he rubs his face. His reflection gives him no answers. He sighs heavily, squeezes his eyes shut. He needs more answers. He needs all of them.

"Okay…" he says, trailing away. He rubs his temples. "Lay this out for me, or I swear, I'll drive there now and kill him myself."

Bella shrugs. "If you can find him. It took me all last spring and summer. But he found me. And he doesn't deserve your wrath, so kill me. I'm the one who has forced this relationship on him. He only wanted to be left alone in a crowded world. _Kill me_."

"Jesus, Bella!" He bursts. Fists bang against the porcelain sink. The toothbrush shakes, the soap dish falls to its death.

"I know," she says. "Mom said the same words. It's why I need you to help me. I can't do this alone."

He leans in, his fist at his chest, rage in his eyes. "You'd ask _me_ that!"

"Yes," she affirms. "I have no one else. How would I explain this to everyone? I can't. No one can know."

Jameson stands choked. "You mean to tell me; I take the brunt for this? That's your plan?"

He's thunder. She's steel sitting silent and still.

What other options does she have? It's Jameson or a crazy Virgin Mary story. The latter is a one-way ticket to an asylum.

Bella shrugs again. "I could say I had a crazy drunken night at a random bar," she says and waits. Then she perks. "A high-end escort job to pay for college books?"

Jameson pushes himself off the sink and disappears. The door to the apartment far away slams shut. Bella watches the vacant sink. This is it. She's alone. Dreams only last for so long. Eventually, you wake up to disaster, remnant, blissful feelings fading, just like the rose-colored filter. Stark realization.

Shakingly, her hand finds her middle.

"Not completely alone."

….


	32. Chapter 32 - Double Mayo

**A/N: Happy Friday. I interviewed for a job this week. I turned down that job this week. I helped Mom at the hospital and got her home this week. And I am now tired. If Joaquin Phoenix doesn't get an award for Joker, I'll effing protest ... silently ... in bed ... under my quilt all comfy. Maybe I'll swing my legs a little, idk. But seriously, go watch that. Best Comic based movie I've watched in my life.**

 **What are you doing on your weekend?**

 **This one's a long one. Sit tight. Thanks for the reviews. I eat them all up. xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 32 - Double Mayo**

 _BPOV - Continued_

Alice stands back. She's not getting any closer. Her mug hangs from her hand as she watches this …. atrocity.

Bella takes another large bite. Her mouth was still full. The mayo oozes out of the sides, a tomato slice plops onto the wax paper. The sub is bigger than her head, is what Alice thinks. She's thinking a lot of things at the moment. Including what the fuck is this and what the fuck is wrong with Bella?

Bella stops chewing to look up. Alice lifts an eyebrow. "Can I … borrow a Coke?" Bella asks through muffled words.

Alice tentatively goes to the fridge to grab a cold can. She pops the lid, making it fizzle. She places it by the ungodly sandwich.

Bella chugs, chugs, chugs, and then sighs. She hiccups a burp.

Then she cries.

"Fucking Ben," she says through tears, the sub tightly in her hands. Bella has grown a liking to double mayo, double disgusting subs Ben loves. And she can't stop the urges. She hides it. She buys the sandwich and runs home to devour them.

She wails. Alice rolls her eyes. "What the fuck is all this?"

"I'm pregnant, that's what!" There it is. First slip.

Alice gasps audibly. "Oh, fuck."

"Yes..." Bella lets it trail with a trembling chin. "That's what it takes. A good, old fashion _fucking._ Fuckkk!" she howls.

"So, like, Ben? Bella, I thought you had somewhat better taste than that. I mean _Ben,_ Ben? Eek."

"No!" Bella slams a greasy palm on the table. She gives her a sharp, watery look. "A fucking hermit living in the fucking woods. That's who!"

Alice is confused, and a tiny bit revolted.

Bella lays a hand on her forehead. "That was mean. I love him. He's all mine, but he isn't, and he's far, and..." She sobs and takes another bite. "Oh, God, I love him," she says through bread.

"Jesus," Alice says, a cringe on her sour face. "Get a grip."

Bella nods and chews. "Okay, yeah. Like you wouldn't be FLIPPING OUT!" she shouts. She flings a piece on the table.

Alice shrugs. "I wouldn't. I'd be taking my ass over to a clinic like I have many times before."

Bella looks up, surprised. "How many … times?"

Alice stares at a wall lost in thought for just a moment. "Two." But she seems to recover quickly. "They were Jasper's."

Bella is quiet to that revelation. The Jasper story. The sensitive one. The guy who got away. Then came back, then got away again. The forty-year-old artist from Greece who Alice met at a foreign exchange thing. She won't ever say it, and neither would Bella out of fear for an aggressive Alice. But he's the love of her life.

Bella swallows hard, drops the baguette. She sighs.

"That's depressing."

"It's reality. You move on. You get over it."

"No one is as fortunate as you with such high tolerance or dismissiveness. How do you live with that?"

"It's a decision, and you go with it. It's no one's business. It's about self-care and maturity. Do what's best. Do what makes you happy. You'll be buried alone, not arm and arm with anyone else."

"Dang. Brutal." Bella stares shocked. "Who the hell did you wrong?"

Alice shrugs like it's how it is and leaves the kitchen.

Bella lets that spread in her mind like double mayo.

Maybe it would be best. What could she possibly do? Raise the child in a cabin; live her entire life in a vacation spot while she tries to find a lost father?

The doorbell rings. The other worry that bubbles in her belly is incarnate at the door. Jameson has been MIA for weeks now. He looks at Bella, then the bundle of a sandwich. Bella doesn't miss it when his eyes glance at her still-flat belly.

"Go get dressed."

"Why?"

"Because I'm betting you haven't gone to the clinic to get checked. Have you?"

Bella is sheepish. "Maybe I don't want to." She pokes a stray pickle.

"Well, it's not about you anymore. It's about prenatals and … bacteria-free, clean-eating." He looks pointedly at the table.

She motions toward her lunch. "It's just veggies on turkey."

"Cold cut turkey, with possibly millions of harmful bacteria that could harm the baby."

 _The baby._

So nonchalant. So true to words and their meanings. He always was a Scrabble champion.

She lets her shoulders drop. She buries her face in her hands and cries some more. "I didn't even know that. I'm already killing it," she says muffled.

He rolls his eyes. He doesn't know why the hell he's here. Everyone has asked where Bella is, and he hates that he's the person they ask. So, he came. Might as well. He can't ever run away from this.

"Calm down. All this isn't healthy for it either. I'll be in the car."

The road is icy. Winter at its worst. Times like this, all Bella can think about is if he's warm enough. The tears trickle down to her chin silently as she stares at the city passing by.

What if he dies? Freezes up in his bed, a still, cold body when dawn breaks. She'll never see him again, never get the chance to tell him about a human they made. She lets her eyes shut to keep the panic at bay. She's felt this before, every winter it's the same. This time it's something more.

Her heart breaks.

The front desk calls her name, the hallway echoes as she walks toward her impending doom. She pees in a cup; she lays on a cot and gets tickled by a wand over her belly. Jameson sits by her, arms crossed. She watches him instead of the screen after the technician asks if he's excited to be a father. He didn't answer. His Adam's apple moved, nothing else. He was still.

A hum from the technician breaks the silence. Then a whooshing sound through the speakers. "Bingo," she says smugly, proud she found it in record time. She offers a grin to a very serious, very pensive pair. Her grin quickly fades. A good throat-clearing softens the blow and the awkward exchange.

She occupies herself with tapping buttons to grab images and watches them print. All the while glancing at the couple who've just been given bad news.

Bella simply stopped breathing the moment she heard the heart. This satisfyingly overwhelming feeling took over her chest. She gripped her sweater close to her breasts and forced herself to breathe.

That's his, and that's hers. Theirs. They made something together.

Her eyes fill with stars, just like the ones they laid under; spent, naked, completely familiar with the other.

Elation leaves her shocked into silence, even after the heartbeat is gone and the technician moves around getting things done. She won't show the joy that bubbles up inside. Not while Jameson sits close. She keeps to herself.

Alice was wrong. There's nothing Bella will ever do to get rid of it. It _is_ reality, and she'd never be able to move on if she hurt the baby.

 _The baby. Hers and his._

Bella snatches the printed images from the technician's hands. She presses them to her chest as she gets her clothes back on and walks out. Jameson silently in tow.

The technician lets that grin appear noticing the mother's joy. _Well, one of them is happy_.

The sound of the heat blaring in the car is loud, nothing else is.

Jameson just about felt his heart deteriorate when _he_ heard the heartbeat. At that moment, he didn't know why he thought offering this trip would be a good idea.

He lets out a breath now and hits the turn signal harder than he should, while pressing the accelerator harder than he should.

His foot grows light after the car zips through streets for a few blocks. His instincts telling him to drive slowly; to calm down. A _Baby on Board_ sign from a passing car severs him. He rolls his eyes at every responsible bone in his body. He hates himself.

"I know you hate me right now; I'd ask nothing else of you after this, but could you take me to Dad's, please? I don't want to take the bus," she asks. She can't wait. Might as well do this now while she's out and has the nerve.

He glances at her. She's sure.

When he parks at the front of the house, they sit in the car like they both know words need to be exchanged. Bella waits. Jameson speaks. "How did you meet him?"

She's dreading this.

It's a valid question, considering the history, the myth, and the mystery.

So, she tells him about his first 'hello' on a trail. And she adds that it was never meant to happen. He hides from people purposely. Bumping into her was a mistake. Yet, he couldn't stop watching her as Sam explained who he was as he stood far away through the trees.

"Who wouldn't want to know more? I was bored, it was summer, and it clicked. I knew I had found the most wanted man in a legendary story. Like, how intriguing was that?"

Jameson is silent, but he gets it. He'd probably be curious too. He puts himself in Bella's shoes. If the hermit was a woman, would he have followed her, too?

He shakes off his reverie. The thought is ridiculous.

Reading his skepticism, Bella rushes to explain more. "I fell and hit my head on a rock when I saw him after a week of looking. I'd lie to Mom and Dad. I'd tell them I was with the girls or with you. I walked through the woods at night to find him, and when I did, I fell and hurt myself, like an idiot. He was nice enough to tend to me. Crazy, nosy girl waking up in his living space. I thought I'd faint. I had found the hermit, and it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."

"You couldn't have told me?"

"So you'd lecture me? Tell me it was too dangerous?" She shakes her head, responding. "It would've been dangerous for _him_. It was my secret to keep."

Jameson shrugs. "So, what did he want?"

"You mean me? Because he wants nothing but peace and quiet. It's why he isolated himself." Bella sadly looks out the window. "I … forced this. Tempted him. Sought him for my own benefit.

"I'm … a horrible person. Mom was right. I'm selfish, and I hurt people."

Jameson doesn't respond to that. Bella's heart sinks. Silence is Jameson agreeing.

"I always imagined an older, insane man. Senile. Some criminal with crazed eyes," he says instead.

Bella dabs at her lips with fingertips remembering Edward. His strong arms. The feel of his hips against her legs, curled around him. But mostly his chest pressed to hers. No, his lips. Definitely every kiss.

Bella squeezes her eyes shut, cringing, to keep the longing at bay. She'd like to say to Jameson that he's not even close, that Edward is young, lithe, and the most gorgeous intuitive man she's had to herself. She would have him forever if it were up to her.

Jameson's heart sinks this time. Silence is Bella _not_ agreeing.

"He's incredibly intelligent. All he does is read. Security systems, even after all these years, he knows how to decipher without difficulty." She waves a hand. "He installed that sugar bowl guy's system correctly after he left. It was all wrong. He told me himself." Bella can't help but let a grin softly come to her lips. She sighs. "He's … different."

"He steals." Jameson deadpans.

"And he wouldn't do any of it if he didn't need to. He hates what he does, but he'd do anything to be alone." Bella shrugs. "Read up on it. Nothing short of a monk's ritual. There are many like him, James. And one day I'll find his family, and I'll tell them he's safe and alive."

Jameson glances over at a serious and determined Bella. Icicles seem to cascade down his spine. You think you know a person until you don't. It's boggling.

"Will you find him? Tell him?" he asks.

Bella's stomach curls at the impending hurt that process will likely bring her. "If he wants to be found."

Charlie is surprised when the two are standing in his yard. He's checking the car, hood up, greased hands. He peeks around and sees them coming closer … solemn.

Charlie's stomach drops. Somethings wrong. He knows his daughter well enough to know her confident self never looks hunched over like now, eyes averted, red, like she's been crying for days. The familiar expression she used to have when Renee had passed.

"What is it?" he asks. He doesn't waste time.

Jameson gently touches Bella's back as he lets her lead. A supportive nudge. Bella looks at him, and sheepishly gives him a smile.

"Ah, you know. Just … stuff." She instantly regrets this. Maybe if she runs now … "I wanted to see how you were."

"Well, good. I mean ..." Charlie shrugs a little. His hands wiping on a rag.

"Great! See you this weekend, then."

Jameson stops her from walking away. He spins her in her heels.

Charlie digs a fist in his hip. "Just get it out," he says. He thinks of all the scenarios, but none make sense if she's come with a boyfriend. "Can't be worse than being knocked up. How bad is it?"

Bella cuts her wide eyes to Charlie, a terrified stare.

Charlie lets his mouth drop. He takes a step. "Are you serious?"

"I … guess it's worse," Bella replies. She juts out her arm toward him, the little square photo. "Congrats. You'll be a grandfather." She turns and walks to the car.

Charlie looks at Jameson to explain this really bad prank.

It isn't. The boy is red, looking away.

"Bella, you come back here!" He's so angry now.

"Nope," Bella says loud enough.

"C'mere!" he says, pointing. Bella hasn't seen him this pissed in a long time. Her heart tears apart. She walks back, partly because he's scary when he's like this, but James won't unlock the car door.

"You do this to me after all that's happened?" Charlie yells.

"To you?"

"You promised you'd take care of yourself. To her. She's not here anymore, Bella! She can't clean it all up."

Bella freezes, shocked. So, that's what her father thought all these years. Mom, picking up all her mess?

She gives him a good, hard look. "You better watch the next words that come out of your mouth, or I swear, you'll lose me too."

Charlie can't speak to that. He sucks in a breath.

"You think I wanted this?" she yells back. "Depressed, community college students don't plan for this, Dad! Neither did you and Mom when you were just as young. But, here I am! Here we are! What the hell else should I do? I move on. I raise it. That's it!

"You can have a part of that or not, it's up to you." She waves an arm. "James, unlock the door, we're leaving."

Jameson sighs. He catches Charlie's darkened eyes. He does this double-take.

Charlie is looking at him furiously. Jameson's blood drains from his face, paling. He begins to shake his head, to explain that this is a mistake, that the child is not his.

"And you! I thought better of you. You're in medical school! What have you _done_ to yourself? What in hell will you do now?"

Jameson raises a hand. "Sir … I'm sorry, but ..."

"You apologize? To me? Apologize to your future! That's what you should do. Who the hell do you think you are, huh? I respected you, boy. Now you've disrespected my daughter and me!"

"Leave him alone. You don't know what you're saying," Bella yells.

Jameson holds her back. He watches the angry man make big assumptions. But it's futile. He's here. He came. It's obvious this is what everyone will think.

"You know what? You're right. I shouldn't apologize to you," he says to Charlie. "Because it doesn't matter what anyone thinks, much less you."

Charlie lets his hands fall at his thighs with a heavy sigh. The little photo in his hand still. He looks down at it. He closes his eyes and calls down all the saints.

"What in the hell am I going to do? I can't take much more than this. A man can only take so much!" he says, trailing away, fists to the skies like he's talking to God himself or Renee. He fights this out alone like a mad man.

It's possible no one on earth is listening to Charlie's rant. Maybe the birds up on that tree by the garage, or the sneaky raccoon that's been tearing into the trash bins for days now. Anyone, but Jameson and Bella. Those two are staring at one another.

Bella heard what Jameson _didn't_ say. Her lips part and so does her heart.

She's thinking he's just saved her life. He's thinking … well, he doesn't know. He didn't correct this. He let Charlie believe he's the other irresponsible partner to this crime he thinks has been committed.

Jameson takes the brunt. Jameson can't believe it himself. But he does know this; Bella is still his first love, and he can't, for the life of him, stay away from this extraordinary story Bella is whirled in.

He has to see this puzzle piece find its place. Like starting a movie, then finding out it's a car wreck—but it pesters, it moves fast, and you've already settled in and pressed play.

He must see this to the end.

….


	33. Chapter 33 - Lightning Bolts of Karma

**Chapter 33 - Lightning Bolts of Karma**

 _Months later_

Bella smoothes a hand over the large bump in the mirror. None of her clothes fit. She walked in one day after a shift at the school library and found the maternity clothes stacked on her bed. The note said…

 _Sick of seeing your belly skin under your tiny shirts. For crying out loud, do something about it!_

Bella rolled her eyes but smiled. Alice is warm caramel inside that tough outer shell.

They were her clothes when she thought she'd have Jasper's babies.

Bella tried them all on, her teeth sticky and gooey with said caramel-stuffed chocolates she hides in her drawer.

She sighs now, knowing this one will suffice for today.

Perfect fit.

She looks at her reflection, and she's this person she didn't think she'd be. She cries. It happens a lot. All she can do is appease the girls who won't take 'No' for an answer. Bella begrudgingly leaves her apartment to meet them at the cafe. Something she rarely does these days.

She's not out much. She doesn't tell anyone that she hasn't been to her classes either, but for the library shift to pay for rent or Alice would kill her.

Jen and Lauren were so surprised when they found out months back. Ben's mouth hung open when he realized the hurling in the trash can was just morning sickness. Her belly was too pointy to hide when they'd meet at the café; Jameson unintentionally walking in with her every time. He didn't bother correcting the assumptions. He'd just pull out his books and get to work on things that were more important to him; finals. Everyone takes his stress and reserve as what it is; a med student about to have his whole world turned upside down. To his relief, with the exception of Ben patting his shoulder that first time, the group doesn't bother him. He didn't have to lie … technically.

But he sure didn't lie to his mother. She's the one person he wouldn't lie to about something so life-changing.

He said, "Mom, it's not mine. You understand?" And she did; her Jameson, being the product of the same mistake. A love affair while she was still engaged to another. He doesn't know who his father is since she never married. But they're a team. They're happy. They travel and do everything together.

"It's complicated. An unfortunate circumstance. A … celebrity is involved. I can't say much beyond that. Do you trust me?" He added. And she does.

He'd promised to tell her the truth one day. He said it was worth it. His mother loves romance and mystery, so she bought it. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and shook her head at the absurdity. She knows her son and Bella hadn't been an item for a long time anyway. She'll wait this out patiently. They both have this strong bond that could never break. She trusts him.

But she did warn him, as any mother would, a patient caress of his cheek, but with a nervous hand. "Protect your heart," she said.

He let that sink in.

Jameson looks up from his books now and watches Bella. She's quiet. Definitely more reserved these days, lost in thought more so. It's rare she's here. She's stopped coming, and it's obvious; she cradles her belly like it'll fall off, even as she sits on a secure couch in the cafe a few feet from him.

The gang talks and are loud. They joke about what she should name the baby. Bella just smiles but doesn't contribute. Her red eyes sunken, telling him she definitely goes home and cries them out.

She's not herself anymore. She keeps the happiness and the fear all to herself. He knows this for sure the day he witnessed it. Her slight gasp, the gentle palm of her hand, finding that spot where the baby kicked for the first time. He was there to see her press her lips together and keep the wonder to herself.

She's alone in all of this. He could rip that man's head off if he were here now. Hermit, weirdo, faultless, or not. To Jameson, a man takes care of what's his. End of story.

But he keeps those thoughts to himself.

They're both keeping things.

The hour is up. He must leave to get to his next class. He usually packs up and wordlessly leaves. A general goodbye to the group, but none directed to her, nor a kiss on her cheek. It just doesn't feel right anymore. He's but an associate to Bella now. No one seems to notice, and he can't seem to believe it's sorely overlooked. The attention now is not on him, but a mother to be. This lie is effortless.

This time, when she sees he's about to leave, she doesn't look away like times before, her eyes are wide as she struggles to stand from the couch. She wiggles this way and slides this way, but to no avail. He doesn't want to, but he's a weak fool who can't watch her struggle. Not like this. Jameson reaches out and easily pulls her up by the elbows.

"Thanks." Her cheeks redden. "This damned weight is killing me. I'm a beast," she mumbles sheepishly, pulling on her new shirt.

He thinks that phrase people say about glowing mothers is ridiculous. But, today, he sees it. She's beautiful.

He takes back his hands and pockets them.

She doesn't look straight into his eyes, but she does say, "May I talk to you?" He nods, pissed at himself for looking at her today, _really_ looking at her. He leads her outside.

"Look," she says straight away, "I know this has gotten out of hand, and I feel like shit. I want you to know that I don't take this lightly. Just give me time to tell Charlie. I … don't know how or when, but I promise you I appreciate your silence." She pauses to breathe, her lip wedging hard between her teeth to hold back her cry. "But that's just it," Bella says, exasperated. "You're too silent." Her voice breaks at the end.

Jameson stares confused. "That's what you wanted to tell me?" He shrugs. "I thought this is what you wanted? For everyone to believe I'm an irresponsible shit who'd do this to a woman and walk around with my head held high."

Bella frowns. "Well, I mean, when you put it that way…" She lets her hands fall at her sides.

She lets silent tears just slip like they do all day. It's non-stop. Bella looks beyond tired and stress.

"You have to calm down. This isn't good for the baby."

" _Stop_ saying 'the baby.' It freaks me out." she says between her teeth.

"It's what it is, Bella. _Stop_ ignoring the inevitable."

She's the silent one now. Her eyes glazed, a trembling hand rubbing her forehead. She watches anything else but him. "I can't be here anymore, James. I can't be like this. I need to go back and find him. I need to leave."

He narrows his eyes. "Okay. And what the hell do you plan to do? Hike all of Maine to find him in your condition?"

He watches her shrug. "If that's what it takes. What else should I do? Do I have any other choice?" She stares at him intently.

Jameson holds himself back from yelling. No, he's pretty sure the howls down the sidewalk is yelling. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he finishes saying.

"Absolutely not. Kidding would be asking." She sizes him questionably. "What, you'll hike with me every morning and night while Charlie's in the cabin blissfully unaware?" She chuckles slightly. "This is not yours to judge. I _have_ to do something. I can't just … sit here, waddling like a fool through life, carrying this … _this_ ," she says gesturing. But there it is, the slight, tender cradle of her belly with her secure arms, just so.

She watches as he's about to burst into an angry tangent, red ears like when he's mad, pale lips forming a snarl. But he stops himself. Jameson looks up to the sky per her stubbornness, hands at his hips, a heavy sigh. Almost like Charlie did when Bella broke the news about the pregnancy. Bella wonders if that helps. The sky must have all the answers.

She glances up from where she stands to see if she can spot what he sees.

"You know what," he finally bursts. It makes her start, looking back at him. People walking by take a glance. "Count me in," he adds with a pointed finger. "Because the day I see that piece of shit, I will rip his balls right out of his sack and feed them to him. I'll get a moment alone with him, and you will do _nothing_ to stop me, or I'll tell Charlie who he really is. Hell, I'll tell the entire fucking camp who he really is!"

"No. You won't," Bella says blatantly.

He gets close, really close. "Oh, I will. You want a deal? Well, this one is mine. I'll meet you there after finals," he says with a smirk on his face. He walks away.

If the sky could speak, it would tell her this was a very bad idea, and she can't back-paddle this. She kicks herself and her stupid mouth for sharing her plans. She knows this is part of the many, many consequences.

Bella doesn't look up at the sky for the rest of the day, the week, or the month. Not even to check for rain or lightning bolts of karma.

….


	34. Chapter 34 - The Photo

**Chapter 34 - The Photo**

Charlie places the square photo on the little ledge of Bella's picture frame. He nudges it until the corners catch well. He lets go.

The photo falls.

He grumbles.

He picks it up and tries again. His fingers fidget, and the photo crunches at the edges. He lets go.

The photo falls.

He lets out a loud, frustrated growl.

Then he sighs. It's like even the baby is against him, and it's not born yet.

He gingerly smoothes out the wrinkled edges with his fingertips. He stares at the nose, the webbed fingers.

Then he chuckles to himself. Humorlessly? He doesn't know. Maybe because this is a head-scratcher, where he's stuck, painted into a corner. He has no choice. Things decided without him. It was always Renee running the show, now Bella. They make family decisions, plan the holidays, while he's the one to tag along like a …. spineless wit. His personal bullies, pushing him this way or that. Even the baby is now his new bully. He doesn't quite know how to feel.

All he's sure about is that nose is definitely Bella's.

He remembered when Renee slipped a photo like this in his hand, just like Bella did in his. Take it or leave it. Decision made without you.

Hey, was he not in the room when he and Renee conceived Bella, for God's sake? His thoughts matter too. It makes him furious.

But then it grows on him, like whiskers he has to shave every day. His heart expands, and he's trapped in this love. Love for Baby Bella moving in his arms the day she was born.

He was worse than Renee, too over-protective.

"Now look who's obsessed." Renee teased him once as he let Baby Bella sleep in his arms, him snoozing too. He made a face and smothered it in Bella's, soft little neck as Renee mumbled "ridiculous" under her breath.

Well, she did that to him. Now Bella has too.

He tries again, and the photo catches this time. It stays up-right, perfectly still over Bella and Jameson's photo, mother and father to the unborn.

Well, he's done his part. Renee likes to put up yearly pictures in the cabin. He's kept her promise of keeping it up. Yet, there hasn't been any eventful moments to remember this year, only Renee's passing. It's depressing. This year has been tough on the Swan family.

Their last name carved on a piece of wood hanging on the door. Everything is intact. Charlie breathed relief when he came back to the campsite, and all was just as he left it. No thief breaking into the cabin this time.

On this Friday afternoon, work was light, Charlie kept driving toward the path to the campsite, never stopping for home like he usually does.

He's hurting. It's a bad day. The kind that keeps him up at night, tears spilling down his temples as he stares at Renee's side of the bed. Well, he misses her.

This place, spared from the terrible memories, is a time capsule. Renee left and never came back here. He can almost smell her scent, feel her presence, like she'll walk in from the other room and tell him to get more piles of wood for the fireplace or take out the damned trash.

He chuckles at that. What he wouldn't give to have her yell at him again.

The small photo came rolling out of the glove compartment when opened to retrieve the flashlight he needed to get power to the cabin. He remembered he tossed it there in a fit of anger. He grabbed both and figured his trip today was productive after all, not a spontaneous, secret trip born out of nostalgia.

He stares at the perfect picture.

 _There you go, Renee. Just as you like it. Just not what you would've expected._

He lies down on the bed he shared with her and listens to the birds chirping outside. This is peace. Maybe he should've come sooner. Maybe he'll stay the weekend. No one needs to know. His little escape. His little secret.

Charlie's phone buzzes. Bella's on the other line.

"What?" he answers chagrined. Peace gone.

She's been calling him more often now. She refused his tangent when she broke the news to him in his yard. Bella insists Charlie gets involved in her journey through pregnancy.

Charlie doesn't know why. He'd just like to be left alone. He's reluctant, but he's a sucker anyway. Seeing her belly fill up through the months has been … new, surreal. He's … what is he? Accepting, he guesses. Might as well.

He almost scoffs on the receiver.

"Where are you?" Bella asks.

"Um … work. Why?" He lies.

She sighs. "I need to talk to you."

He waits. "Okay." Silence.

"Are you listening?"

"Bella, for crying out loud. We're talking now. Come out with it already."

"Fine. My God, you're difficult." She pauses to sigh. "I want to go to the cabin early. And … I want to stay until the baby is born," she says. "Jameson will meet us later."

He's confused. "Like, give birth in the cabin?"

"No. Like out on the lake, in a canoe. Of course, in the cabin!"

He rolls his eyes. "Right. So, who will help? The sheriff? Him ready to catch the baby like a football? There are no near hospitals here. That's crazy."

"You're so infuriating."

"Like father, like daughter," he spits back. He folds an arm and cradles his head. He tries not to laugh out loud.

"So, we have to start packing. Jen is driving me home now."

Charlie panics. "Like, home, home?"

"Yes. I'll wait for you to get off work."

He sighs, rubs his face. "Look, I'm not … home. I'm at the cabin."

The line is quiet. "Oh. Um, why?"

"Because I'm a grown man, and I don't need to give explanations!"

If hearts could make a noise when they sink, Bella's would be a loud _thunk_ over the speaker. He's hurting. She knows it. And she should be gentler with him.

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm … here for the same reasons you want to be."

Bella nods even if he can't see her.

He sighs. "Just … we need to clean the place. Might as well stay the weekend and do that. Too much dust. It isn't good for you to get sick now." He waves a hand and lets it drop on his chest where he lies.

Yes. That's another reason she wants to be there, Bella thinks. It's the memory of Mom.

But really, it's a mission to find Edward.

Charlie hangs up and takes his deserved damned nap, baseball cap over his face. This place will be mayhem soon. His little escape. His little secret.

For now.

What Charlie doesn't know is that tomorrow, while he's out getting breakfast, the lock will be turned with a key saved under a rock. Edward will walk in and search that wall of family photos he knows Charlie brings every Spring. Winter was brutal, but through it all, he thought of Bella and her tears as she asked him if he felt anything for her. His automatic response. Her heart breaking right before him.

He'll find the square photo sitting over that frame; the little nose, the webbed fingers.

Like it did to Charlie, it'll pester, it'll be a worm in his brain. The girl will be a mother. A monumental change.

…..


	35. Chapter 35 - A Head Start

**A/N: Getting there. My hope is to finish the fic in its entirety next week. *slow chuckle, then a cackle* sighhhh We'll see. Wish me luck. Thanks for your** **reactions. Love the reviews.**

 **This one goes out to Bobby. *black heart emoji***

* * *

 **Chapter 35 - A Head Start**

 _BPOV continued, also her side of 'Lucky Today' chapter_

The moment Bella arrived was like finding true north. Everything seemed to align. She breathed in the fresh air, closed her eyes, and knew this was the best idea she could've imagined. All her struggles, all the weight she carried slipped off her shoulders ... and suddenly, this bump wasn't so heavy after all. She felt this strength, she felt happiness.

She looked toward there, beyond the trees, at the lake, wishing she could see the boulders from where she stood. That secret place is her north on a compass, she's the needle. It is automatic, she wakes up, and her eyes find her window. She makes breakfast, and her eyes are pinned toward the treetops. She hardly keeps still waiting for Jameson to come, her knee bobbing in her wicker chair.

She accepted his _deal._ She thought, whatever it takes. He can do what he wants when he sees Edward, as long as he helps her find him. Jameson is her saving grace. Now she looks up at the sky, and it's almost as if she sees what he saw on that sidewalk.

Peace. Clarity.

But her knee keeps bobbing. Her sighs come more frequently, along with anxiety. She'd go alone. She would. But she holds herself back from hiking alone before Jameson comes.

The voices of Sam and Dad travels from the porch. She stirs cream into a coffee cup, the porcelain singing a high pitch against the spoon as it's steaming hot.

"And she's pushy and hormonal, and I'm just a man trying to appease a tired woman," says Charlie. His words travel into the kitchen where Bella stands.

She rolls her eyes.

"So much exaggerating," she says from behind the screen door.

Sam smiles at her as she climbs down the threshold and hands him a hot mug.

She lifts a palm, gesturing toward hers. "Don't worry, it's just warm milk," she says to her father, per his overprotective badgering.

"A North Pond baby," Sam says after some silence. "When's the day?" he asks.

"Not soon enough," Bella mutters. Really, she hopes it doesn't come until Edward has laid eyes on her. What will he say? What would he think? She can just see it: his bright eyes blinking through his glasses, shifting to her belly. Her insides curl with the thought. She wants so badly for him to react. He would know, right? He'd see her this way, and he'd know it's a result of their night together.

He wouldn't assume otherwise if Jameson is there.

 _Would he?_

She'd shout it. "It's yours. Ours." Even before another word is uttered. No waiting.

Well, everything is falling into place. Sam confirms it when he offers to send his daughter to be her midwife.

"I told you it would work out. Help is right at our doorstep," she says to Charlie.

Charlie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

The gravel crunches nearby, making Bella perk. Her compass needle twitches. Jameson drives up by the cabin. Bella sighs as if a ton of bricks have fallen off her shoulders at the sight of him.

"Tell her I'll make her dinner. I'd love to meet her. You come, too." Bella says to Sam before she waddles off to meet Jameson.

Her arms extending before they even connect around his neck.

"Whoa," says Jameson, his mouth nestles by her ear. He catches her. The baby bump pressing to his hips. She has to pivot her front to hug him precisely.

This is new. Well, as new as time passing, making things not a habit anymore. He hugged her like this all the time, but before. It's been weeks, and he hasn't seen her, since the day on the sidewalk. He guesses none of his threats affected her whatsoever. It figures.

He cups her head in his palm and lets the hug linger as long as she needs it to. He has no choice; she won't let go even if he tried that dance to back up. He gives in to more hugging.

"You okay?" he asks in her ear. She nods over his shoulder. Then she shakes her head. He hears sniffling next.

"I have this fear, James. A deep fear that won't go away."

She finally lets up, and he stares down at her; her front still stuck to his. He wipes a tear away from her cheek.

"Let's go. Now. Please," Bella pleads. "I can barely wait any longer."

He sighs. He looks up at Charlie on the porch.

"Yeah, but watchful eyes," he reminds. "C'mon, let's go inside."

Jameson feels the bubble of anticipation, the unveiling of the mystery. He can't help it. Soon enough, he'll be in the midst of a legend, a thief, a man who took his girlfriend's heart. He can't help but pity the unfortunate man who'll have his world turned upside down. Right now, blissfully ignorant is his state.

Well, he can't wait to see his face before he gets a good swing at him. He's seen it in dreams and through dried up eyes as he occasionally lets his mind wander, staring at walls. He's rehearsed it many times.

He can taste it.

His eyes catch Sam over Bella's head as he leaves, slowly walking toward the path to town. Then he sees a hiker just beyond the edge of the woods far away, weaving through trees. A backpack on his hunched shoulders, and a bin dragging behind him.

And he thinks, maybe he should prepare a bag for Bella too if they're really going to do this. He'll ask her out after dinner, casually like they always have. Charlie won't suspect it to be a hike. They'll have hours before he can question them being gone for too long.

"Get a backpack together. We'll leave in a few hours."

Bella quickens her steps, but her heart already has a head start.

…


	36. Chapter 36 - He'll See It

**A/N: seriously how does one copy paste the chap and keep the damn formatting on here? *tears my hair* send me your secrets. I've tried 500 times.**

 **i said id finish the story over Thanksgiving and then the universe laughed at me. but i did write like 6 chaps. so buckle in.  
**

 **Hi. love you.**

* * *

 **Chapter 36 - He'll See It**

"Bella, it's late. Come."

Bella cringes, closing her eyes. She keeps her back to James. This was the spot, her spot. She talked to Edward for hours here.

The wind makes a tin pot clink against a spoon where it hangs. A windchime, of sorts, singing among the desolace. Silence. Like no one is home.

Everything is the same, at least. Even the hammer is in its spot, where it should be.

Jameson and Bella had headed out hours before. Charlie said he'd read and go to sleep early. He didn't think anything of it when they mentioned they'd go out. Jameson has his car, and Bella would be safe. That's what's in Charlie's mind as he settled in the living room, glasses over his nose.

He didn't notice Bella's yoga pants and puffy jacket with her comfortable sneakers. Her necessities in a backpack that James carried. Why would Charlie notice those details? No one would.

Jameson was astonished. He followed her. Every step was precise. The path up, beyond the lake was dense, but she knew where to go. He was hesitant. He'd grab her arm to stop her. It couldn't be right. She was leading them off the trail where one could barely walk.

"Come," she'd say. Her confidence heard in every footfall. So, he let her, and he let go of the doubt.

He guesses if it took this many years and the thief was never caught, he couldn't be hiding in plain sight. The spot has to be in an odd place in the woods. Hiding worked.

She said, "Follow my steps, don't stray."

Jameson scoffed. "Why? Landmines?"

She gave him one good look over her shoulder. "Because it's important to him that there aren't any traces."

That kept his mouth shut. The pang of jealousy. Bella, with such a secret to herself and rules to go with it. He's never belonged to something so delicate, nothing so interesting. His life is basic, boring.

He appeased. He followed quietly.

And when the boulders appeared, his sealed lips parted. His eyes took in the expanse. The oddity of rocks in this formation in a place such as this.

Bella wedged herself between them and disappeared. He called out to her, and had no choice but to follow.

"Come." He heard her say.

His breath caught at the sight. It's a room. The trees bend into a cozy space. The tent up and positioned strategically in the back center. Clothing lines hooked to branches. Bins and barrels used for different purposes.

Bella immediately disappeared into the tent. Jameson was too occupied with taking it all in. He met the mushroom, the hammer with a graze of his fingers, the flat rock where Edward washes clothes. He met the dug up ground behind, where the disposed things lay resting. The stove. The pots. The piles of books.

So many books.

Jameson's hand was quick to flip through those. History. Literature. Science. Novels. Sci-fi. Even ones he owns himself; course books, medical, old editions. Books he now studies. That made Jameson feel … angry? Foolish? His student loans piling up every semester, and this fucker gets to learn for free. He kicked at a cover with a sigh. ' _Playboy'_ on the print, faded and old.

 _Well, that grounds this stranger. He's human, after all._

There are books and more books. All piled up to make a platform for the tent, or keeping other things upright. Warmth, he guessed. All to keep in the warmth.

Jameson looked above, all around. The clever details like a digital dial that tells the temperature. The wires that connect to this or that to make things work on a large battery — _from a boat?_ A shovel and a rake sat close by. There was not a pile of firewood in sight.

 _This guy really did make it through winters here._

Jameson was amazed.

A chuckle escaped, despite himself. The neatly piled Gameboys and battery-powered electronics through the years, all in a crate. The legacy ones. Vintage. The types he sees on sites selling for buttloads of money. His eyes grew big, his fingers sped, flipping through them.

Bella sighed loudly, interrupting his awe, making Jameson think twice. His hand definitely itching to pocket one for himself.

"James, careful. He doesn't really like snooping," she whispered. Well, that pissed him off.

"How the hell do you think these got here?" he spits, rolling his eyes. He let the Gameboy 90's edition device loudly plop back into the crate begrudgingly. The clearing is a guy's dream escape. There's not one thing here Jameson wouldn't need or want for himself if he ever wanted to run away. He scoffed. He has wanted to run away so many times in his life. This chump just went ahead and did it.

Jameson just felt … resentment.

Bella got quiet. Not about the subject, but about the emptiness. This feels vacant, not lived in. It feels … wrong.

"Is this it? So, where is he?" he asked her.

She didn't say what was on her mind. She didn't utter it, so it wouldn't catch in the wind and travel, making it real. She sat on the crate she loved and fell silent.

Jameson fell into chapter one of a book he grabbed nearby with a sigh. From the looks of Bella, the stay would be a long one.

So, they've been sitting here. Hours. No words uttered. Barely any moving but for Jameson's eyes traveling over the pages, and the wind making that pot and spoon chime and sing.

The evening sun, set late. It's starting to set later every day.

The pages grow darker; his eyes are squinting. He looks up. He stretches. He sighs. He closes the book, placing it back where he found it, in its second home. Really, it belongs with its intended owner.

"Bella, it's late. Come," he now says. His turn to lead. They can't sit here all night.

He stands from where he sits. He extends a hand. "Come."

She shakes her head. Her chin trembling slightly. Her eyes blurring.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Early." He reasons. She doesn't move. That hand drops to his side.

"What if this doesn't work? You'll have to prepare for the worst. He's unpredictable, Bella," he says. She cuts her eyes to his. The fire there, and her silence.

His hands lift and drop with a shake of his head.

"You can't let this paralyze you if it doesn't—"

"James," she snaps. Never looking away. He seals his lips shut.

He looks around. He looks at the boulders. He doesn't even know how to get back. She's his only guide.

He thinks. Maybe mentioning Charlie could help her react.

"Your dad will start to worry. We have to get back."

Nothing.

He tries again. "We can't stay here all night."

"James!" She shouts at the top of her lungs. Her hands clawing at her lap, lips going pale. Her eyes look murderous.

His anger spikes. "Hey. Hey!" he yells as he charges toward her. One swift lift of her body by her collar and he's looking at her eye to eye. "We're doing this on my terms. You got me?" he says, nudging her. "I help you here; I make sure you're safe, all right? That's my job. Move it. We're leaving. Now."

Bella's chin gets trembling again over the ball of his fist. She nods through watery eyes. She staggers a breath and finally takes one in. "Okay," she mouths, barely saying. Strings of tears sticking to her líps.

He slowly loosens his grip. "Okay." His gentle hand now curling around the small of her back, that bump between them, cradled, like it's the most precious gem and he must protect it. Her head finds his chest to cry.

"Come," he says softly. She listens this time. She must listen.

That night, he tucks her into bed, swinging her legs in and pouring her quilt over her tired frame. Her eyes far and vacant. He can't anticipate that for the rest of the week, time and again, they'll go back and find nothing. And every time, Bella's light, the one he's loved, the one that makes her whole, and brave, will slowly go out.

He'll see it in her eyes.

….


	37. Chapter 37 - He Comes Closer

**A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE! Love you all. have a wonderful day. Off to bake. Enjoy this one. We're getting there. Xoxo.**

* * *

 **Chapter 37 - He Comes Closer**

Bella opens her eyes. She wasn't sleeping. She hasn't been. Her eyes close and she just sees Edward. Pain and hurt. That's what she feels when she thinks of him.

This is what she deserves. She knows karma plays a part in this … mess. What did she expect? That he'd come running? He'd take her in his arms and accept? Just accept.

He wouldn't.

Even if she would've found him, how would this change things? 'This' being the movement in her bulging belly. The baby living, growing. It digs into her lungs, her bladder, and these are just reminders that she's indeed alive; not lifeless as she feels. The baby reminds her every second how real life is, her surroundings. She can't take a numbing break.

She sits up, and heartburn is another reminder. The normalcy of life. Everything at its base. This is not a fantasy. This is a woman with a child she'll have to feed and care for. Despite her pain and hurt, this child won't stop growing just to give Bella a pause.

This is actually happening.

So she stands, she washes up, and she makes breakfast, because Charlie has to eat, and this baby begs to eat. It kicks and kicks until Bella moves and makes human decisions.

She sits at the table, Charlie across from her, and she wishes she could say it. _Dad, it's Edward's, the hermit, the one everyone despises, but me. I love him._

She sips tea, and she lets it go. Dread. Fear. He'd kill her. Definitely.

She drags herself back to bed. Everyone is appeased; food in bellies, now it's time for her to grieve.

She stands in the middle of her room. She stares out the window. Bright sun out there shining over happy people. She looks around and imagines Edward coming in here, seeing her things. So close yet so very far. Her eyes fall on that picture, the one of her and Jameson. She sighs. He's good to her. He's a good man. He helps her. He deals with her bullshit and erratic life.

Then she notices another set of eyes staring back. She snatches the frame off the wall. She brings it close to her nose.

 _Edward?_

He's hiding in the background, behind her and Jameson in the photo.

Bella's life sinks to the floor.

It's so clear. His face barely pixelated. Enough to know it's him. Just waiting between the trees.

She remembers that day. So many people around, who would notice?

She didn't.

Her mouth gapes. Her blood rushes from her face.

Edward, in an image, a stranger who would have such meaning to her life, just beyond the trees, casually existing in her midst. Well, a photo at least.

She falls to her bed and stares at the irony, the sickest joke piercing her heart. Yet her fingers rub over the glass, down his face.

A rap at the door to her room but Bella doesn't look up. Jameson just peeks in and pushes the door wider to look at her.

Somethings wrong. He can instantly tell. He quietly steps in and lets whatever sad news add to the heaviness he's been around for a week.

"What is it now?" he asks, tired.

Bella looks up with watery eyes and hands over the frame.

He looks. Then he glances at Bella. "Yeah, it was nice then, wasn't it?" This is uncomfortable. Why is she staring at their photo and reminiscing?

She sighs. "Yes, it was. But …" She points.

Jameson sits by her, and he sees what she sees.

"Oh." That's him. The guy on the shore, giving Bella breath, lips to her lips. His height bent over her. His hand over her chest as he dipped to breathe into her. Then his hands would meet to press down over her chest. Jameson sat by helpless, not wanting to interrupt, not after the stranger's insistence. _Him_.

"That's … weird."

She scoffs. "Understatement."

They sit silent, both tired. It's been a trying week.

"We have to find him, James," she says. He doesn't answer. He doesn't say he's already given up. And now this.

"I'll get dressed," she adds. The one thing Jameson was dreading from her, one more instance. Every day he walks into this cabin, and he hopes she'll let it go. Every day his temperament and determination to find that low life simmers down to fatigue. Fuck it. This isn't worth it. What Jameson would like to do is stay in bed, go fishing, swimming, just fucking veg on a hammock after the hectic semester he had. Feeling like he barely made it out by a hair. His studies never come easy.

But no. This asshole and his books tucked in corners of a tent, used as weights, while Jameson struggles to absorb and study those every day. Now he's made it a goal every evening to read material for next year to get a head start.

How enraging; a stranger setting a fire under Jameson's ass. Now this has become competitive for him. If an absolute nobody was able to get his hands on material and casually read them to learn, why shouldn't James?

He begrudgingly leaves her room to wait in the living room, thinking about the chapters he'll read tonight.

"Going out again?" Charlie asks. Jameson nods and shrugs at the same time. He's under the orders of a very pregnant woman. Charlie feels pity for the guy, a little.

"What the hell do you guys do all day anyway?"

Jameson is speechless.

"Things for the baby. What's it to you?" Bella speaks, walking out. She sits by James to get her shoes on. That just makes her hold her breath, then puff it out when she's not bending, until Jameson pulls her foot over his lap to help her.

Charlie sees she's struggling. "Well, sit it out. You look tired, Bella."

She rolls her eyes. "I need my vitamins and other things."

"James can get them."

James is quiet.

She sighs. "No need. I'm fine."

"Then, I'll get them. You look pale."

"Just leave it, for crying out loud!" she shouts. It takes up the entire cabin.

Charlie watches her. His hands slap at his thighs, bewildered, her anger firing up, making him confused and frustrated.

She raises a hand. "Please …"

Charlie raises his in response and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Great. Now both the Swans are pissed. That's what Jameson thinks.

Bella stands and holds her side. A hiss just quiet enough where Jameson doesn't hear it, just like all the other pains from yesterday. But once again, she straightens and gets her courage together once again for this trek.

The sun is shining over the lake. Not in here. In here, there is a cool shade. The breeze moves through the trees. The new leaves sway on branches and it makes Jameson's eyes drift closed.

 _That fucker._

Every time he feels comfort and peace, his patience fires up. He thinks of _him,_ his doing, all of this. He usually straightens in his seat and shakes it off. This time, he lets his eyes close easily. He listens to the early morning sounds of the lake, everything at this man's disposal.

Jameson can hear conversations of hikers, the shouts of kids playing in the water, the thunks of canoes hitting the dock, or slicing through the still water. Here, you can partake in life, yet only do so through sounds. And you don't feel so alone. You are cocooned in a sheltered room no one, nor anything can touch.

 _Damn him._

Damn this man who lived here, set this up for complete and utter success. The goal to make eyelids flutter closed, to rest, to quietly be in half slumber as the breeze puffs the gentlest kisses to your cheeks. Jameson feels the weight of this tension lift for just a few minutes, and he accepts.

Bella sits quietly at her crate. Her eyes stick, too. Her arms rest on the bump, and maybe the unborn sleeps, too. Christ, even the critters are quiet; the campsite is fast asleep even though it's close to noon.

Jameson cracks an eye. He watches Bella. The undeniable determination, the persistence, a fog over her. He guesses, her motherly instincts already in practice. She won't give up, will she? Now that the photo in her room has given her a push, new energy to keep going, to move, to hike all the way here to wait for no one. He won't come. He has to tell her, someway, somehow.

"You'll live on, won't you?" he speaks. Bella's eyes pop open, staring at the treetops. "For the baby. You'll go on just for him or her, even if this doesn't work out. Right, Bella?"

She's quiet.

"He'll disappoint you. This will tear your heart apart, but you'll muscle through this anyway. You'll finish school. You'll start an amazing career. And you'll move even if you're hurt. You have to. I know you will. You're like no one I know. That's why I'm really here, you know that, right?"

Bella's heart is already tearing. It has been. Wednesday, it came crashing down. Thursday, she was sure of it. Friday, she let tears stream down her cheeks endlessly. James; none the wiser.

Well, it's Sunday. A full week has passed since James arrived, and maybe she's sure now.

Edward won't come.

Maybe.

Jameson doesn't get an answer, but every day he plants a seed. He hopes the seed flourishes in her heart. That this is reality, and time goes on with or without Edward. She has to react. She has to find a way to move on, even if the first step is out of here.

He pulls on the backpack and takes out the canned soup. He works the stove. He checked the tank yesterday and already knows. Well, if they're sitting here, might as well make use of it. His stomach growling at him.

Bella barely turns her head to look at him fire up the stovetop and use that pan and spoon hanging from the clothesline. It sang for them, now it'll cater to them, as it should. Jameson is making music now; the tap and clanks while he's stirring.

She'd protest but, honestly, what of it? It's not the worst idea. Her stomach protests involuntarily through this frustrating vigil.

She comes alive a little. Her back straightens. She sits up, as the hot bowl James passes over wedges between her palms. She sips. Sips again. With each taste comes rationality with it. She knows she must move on. His words, though angering every day, are right.

What will she do? Sit here for years? Let the baby crawl around its father's tent. What would it do but expose the child to the cold? No fatherly lessons here, no help, but a ghost left in his wake. A single mother for the rest of her life.

Edward won't come.

 _Maybe._

The next day they come again. They must. She's arguing with herself, but her hope of 'maybe this once …' is still so strong. They trek back, this time slowly. Jameson already knows the way. He leads this time. He goes with it. He endures. Because he knows deep inside every day is a step toward reality. He's getting to her. His words are working. But also, there's this bubble of excitement, like walking into a library and feeling the expanse, the quiet, the smell of old books. He comes here, and it's like a labyrinth getting through another pile of books to make him curse under his breath. He's starting to like it here. _That_ he doesn't like.

Here comes his daily proverbs; the bad news with hints of encouragements:

"Bella, it's inevitable. We'll come as much as you like, but it won't change anything. You're strong. I know you're better than this."

"Bella, you were born for so much more than waiting."

"Bella, you can help others like him. This doesn't have to be the end."

"Bella, your baby will be lucky to have you. You'll be an amazing mother."

She slowly lets his words sink in. Every time, they're like balm, not needles.

And just as they settle in for the day—another set of canned soups and snacks in their bag, ready to be made at the right hour—something does change. It sinks their stomachs to the cool ground. It changes the air, the lightness, and ease. They both cut their eyes toward the noise. Right there, across the clearing.

Bella gasps sharply. Jameson's eyes grow wide.

"Fuck," he mutters. The blood drains from his face. Bella doesn't look any different or dares to look away.

"What is this?" Sam asks as he looks around. He steps through the boulders and he comes closer.

….


	38. Chapter 38 - Today He Wonders

**Chapter 38 - Today He Wonders**

Sam wakes up to find that the day is perfect. He makes coffee like he's used to and sits on the porch to get in his quick breakfast before he heads out. Charlie is waiting.

Sam is delighted he has something to do so early in the season. It's not hot yet, it's cool in the mornings, enough to wear a light jacket. Maybe it'll be chilly on the water when they both head out fishing. He packs the cooler with a few beers, and leaves room for the catch. He's had a hankering for some rainbow trout these past few weeks. If they're lucky, they'll be feasting on salmon tonight. It'll be good for the girl and the baby to eat.

He makes his hike down toward the lake, and there they are again. They're far away, but Sam can see them. Barely anyone in sight this early. Seeing any movement anywhere is like spotting a hawk up above tree-tops so easily. Question is, why would they be hiking this early? And why would a mother to be, about to give birth as it seems, be hiking up trails in her condition?

He saw them yesterday, and the day before that. So many reasons why a couple would be hiking up these grounds, he thought nothing of it. Maybe she needs her exercise, doctor's orders? Maybe they love the sights; it's their way of passing time? He looked away and moved on to get to Charlie's cabin.

But today he wonders. It guts him just enough where it makes his steps falter. He's curious now. Something is up. Something is afoot.

They hike every day at the same hour—no earlier, no later—and it's always around the lake, farther, beyond it. He never sees where they end up.

Sam looks over at Charlie's cabin, then he looks at Bella and the boy—her boyfriend? God knows these days. These kids are all different with complicated or colorful relationships through modern behaviors. He doesn't know what's really between them. If you asked him, he'd say the hug the other day when Bella went to him after he arrived, looked off. There wasn't love behind it. Not the kind of love he felt for his Emily. Kids these days have no idea what love truly means.

A shame.

Sam takes a step toward the lake, not Charlie's cabin. Charlie's car isn't parked, maybe he has time to investigate before Charlie wonders where he is. So, he takes another step, and then they quicken. The couple is far now, and he must catch up.

He weaves through trees. He stops. He watches them take a break. She needs the breath.

Sam worries his lip; he shakes his head. This is not the place for a young girl in her state. He wants to shout to show himself, to reprimand. But something tells him to wait.

Sam keeps following, just a good distance away. He adjusts his pack and the cooler, and now he regrets not leaving it by the cabin door. He must move fast. He can see their backs, but he loses them at times.

When they disappear through a slight hill, an unpaved path, he rushes as fast as his old creaky legs would take him. The cooler clatters to the ground behind him as he lets go. But there's no time to turn back. He'll definitely lose them.

With his breath caught, and his heart going a mile high, he thinks he's still got it—the endurance. He definitely doesn't need to go walking on his exercise day tomorrow. He's done enough for the entire week. He huffs out the fatigue.

Boulders appear. The sight to the left is clear, so is the right, so, through them is probably where they must have gone, nowhere else. He tries it. He walks through the cracks.

And, boy, does this day get better than he ever thought it possibly could.

….

Sam's eyes haven't bothered to stop on Bella or Jameson. He turns this way, then that way. He chuckles.

"Now, why in Christ would you two bring all this stuff…" His voice trails off. What he was about to finish saying was the unthinkable, the impossible. His astonishment dumbs him. Of course, they didn't bring all of this. This would take years to accumulate.

"Sam ..." Bella begins to stutter.

Sam chuckles again. He racks his brain; he rubs his peppered chin. "Well, I'll be damned."

He spreads his arms, finally looking at them. "Who would do all this?"

Bella shakes her head. She glances at James. James is not going to jump in.

Sam wanders. His hands skim the trees as he ducks under a branch to walk into the space a little more. He touches a barrel as if it'll disappear. He bumps another to watch it sway.

Bella nervously laughs. "How did you …? Did you follow us?" she asks, looking panicked at James.

Sam stops in the dead center. "I've been watching you two walk past the lake for a couple of days now, but you'd walk through an unpaved path, and … I thought it was odd."

He looks at them, at Bella, like he's realized something monumental. Like the light has finally reached a bulb deep in his mind. It has clicked on. It brightens by the nanosecond. Brighter and brighter.

"This is where he lived, isn't it? The boy."

Bella shakes her head slightly. "Uh … who?" She shrugs.

Sam narrows his eyes at her. He gets closer and points. "You know who I'm talking about. You were there that day with Charlie. You saw him, too."

Bella is frozen.

"You found him, " he adds, matter of fact. He watches her expression. Her unblinking stare; scared. Trembling hand finds her middle, a slow graze over the bump; a mother protecting her child. A mother doing the impossible to do what needs to be done. Determination comes in many forms, but hers comes in hikes along the lake every day, early in the morning, without fail. She would do just about anything for her child. Even find its missing father.

The weight of the world finds Sam's shoulders as the bulb in him clicks another on. His mind is a sparking lightning storm.

Sam pulls in a sharp breath. "Girl, what have you done?" His eyes wide, taking her in with new meaning this time.

A tear escapes down Bella's cheek.

The confirmation.

Sam bends at his waist. He turns, hands on his hips. The same reaction a worried father would make, the same Charlie has done many times before.

"Oh, child," he says exasperatingly. He scratches his head; he runs that hand down his suddenly tired face. "And Charlie doesn't know, does he?"

No response from Bella, not an uttered affirmation. She doesn't need to. This wise man has figured it all out.

Sam turns in circles. He stares at all the things. "This will kill your father. If nothing else, this will."

"Please … Sam, please. Let me tell him."

He knits his brows, taken. He pauses from the absurdity. "You think I would intervene in something like this?" he says, shaking his head. "I am a man with a simple life. This is too much for me," he says with a pointed finger. "This is yours to tell, and to endure. What I'm deeply regretful of is that no one ever does listen to an old man." He waves a hand. "He was bait that day; I should've known."

Bella sucks in more tears.

"You had to go and find him, didn't you?" He says, but his eyes are saddened. His lips turn into a smile to match. "I told you he shouldn't be bothered."

"So, where is he?" Bella asks bluntly. Anger bubbles up. "If you know so much, where has he gone? Tell me." She asks this desperately.

He knows exactly where. He shakes his head, remembering. "I'm afraid you won't like my answer," he says.

"Any answer. I'll take any!" she shouts.

Jameson goes to her side, a calming hand over her chest.

Sam looks down. His bushy, dark brows expressive. They're saying this is going to be heartbreaking. "I saw him myself. I thought it was rare, like watching a blue bear make it slowly across the woods. I thought I was lucky that day." He blinks with the memory. "Backpack, bin and all, dragging behind him. I knew it would be the last I would see of him."

Jameson's eyes crinkle up. "A bin?" He turns his eyes toward the same type of container beside him, the same he saw just a week ago. It dragged along behind a hiker, too.

"I saw him," Jameson says to Sam. "I saw a bin just like this behind a hiker." He gestures toward said bin. Sam quirks a lip.

Bella collapses to her knees. The cold, dry leaves beneath her palms crush to pieces, like her heart feels.

Edward is gone.

 _Definitely_.

Her screams take up the campsite—laments of loss, but suddenly of a deep-rooted pain.

Bella's hand again finds her side.

This time, Jameson notices.

…


	39. Chapter 39 - Everyone Has A Job

**A/N: urghhh work tomorrow. Kill me dead. Sending good vibes to all who also have to start a new fay of work, unless you already have been. We can do this. Sigh. No, I cant.**

 **Go read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 39 - Everyone Has a Job**

Bella screams. Sam and Jameson cringe. They're breathing hard, sweating, and they're spent. Definitely panicked. Adrenaline shoots through them as Bella hangs on to their shoulders as they carry her when walking became impossible. She was walking until she couldn't.

The ground back there is now soaked; her clothes the same. Her belly is contracting too often.

It's too fast, Jameson thinks. But an unborn chooses its own time. Words like a ticker scan his mind—the book he read once told the unpredictable process.

Bella screams, and it rings sharp through Jameson and Sam's ears.

"Stop!" Sam shouts. He distributes her weight over to Jameson. He huffs and puffs. "This is not going to work. We'll drop her."

"It has to," James says back. He bends his knees and scoops her up. Bella grunts loudly. Jameson only makes it down a yard or two. "Fuck!" He spits. He kneels where he stops.

"Take me back. Take me back," Bella says heaving, her index pointing over his shoulder toward the tent, far away and nowhere visible from here.

"No! This is crazy," he shouts.

She grunts and heaves over his shoulder, relief coming for just a moment. She straightens and manages to stand on shaking legs.

"She's right. We won't make it," says Sam.

"You will not be having a baby in a fucking tent, let alone his! We're damned civilized!" This just got worse. He gets Bella, now he gets this? Fuck, if he had him here now, he'd kill the man.

Bella cups his cheeks, where he kneels in front of her. "You're practically a doctor, James."

"Absolutely not. Over my dead body!" he spits back.

"You'll do just fine." Tears stream down her cheeks.

"You made me do this. You dragged me here every fucking day. I can't believe you'd do this to me!" He grips his head. "I'm such an idiot."

"I know, and I'm sorry. And you're not an idiot! I am! You are good, too good. I'll owe you my life. But right now, you gotta move, James."

He doesn't. He tries to scoop her up again, but fails.

"I'm going into contractions any minute now. I swear to god, if you don't move, I will kick you in the nuts so hard you'll be feeling an iota of my pain," she says calmly, but sternly.

Jameson looks at her. He blinks away the fog of anger over his eye long enough to see what he's missed for quite some time.

This is the strength Bella has lacked for the longest. He sees her now, the Bella he once knew. Fear grabs at his groin because a threat like that, coming from her, is a promise. But, man, does he see so clearly why he fell for her. The love sparked like firewood.

Begrudgingly he stands and guides her back, having to practically drag her there with the help of Sam.

Her eyes stick to that tent ceiling where she lies, and how fitting? She closes her eyes tightly through the pain, and tries not to think of the irony; this place, the source of this consequence. Where she was last, was here with him. The air is saturated with his scent, the sheets, the pillows, everything.

Yet, Edward isn't here. Her tears drop endlessly onto the pillow through her screams.

Jameson is yelling things. She's breathing, keeping focused, but failing. He is muffled noises through her ears. What he's really saying is, "Call an ambulance." But then Jameson realizes, how would they know how to get here?

Sam stares wide-eyed at the problem.

"I've got it," he says loudly. "Stay here," he orders.

He shakingly pulls out his phone. He tries to make the call, but it drops.

"It isn't working. Why isn't it working? Young man, make this dreaded thing work." He says pushing it toward Jameson's chest. Jameson sighs with the stress. He steps out of the tent. He looks at the phone.

"No service. Walk around. When you see those bars fill in, make the call."

The older man walks around, his heart hammering. Well, he hasn't been this hurried in quite a while. He raises his arms high and looks up at the phone, grumbling to the heavens.

Fucking technology, but a blessing at that. He gets articles and emails every day. His silly little digital game. Convenience. Right now, he needs a miracle. He passes the boulders. There: One. Two. Three. Four bars fill up like magic. He takes a breath.

Sue picks up in record time.

"Come," he says. "It's time. This will be your best, baby girl," he says about the circumstance. "Just you wait." He snaps the phone shut after further instructions and finds that cooler he dropped somewhere along the way. They're gonna need water. They're gonna need a lot of things. A baby is rushing to come into this world.

Everyone has a job to help, yet no one anticipated this morning something like this would occur in a quiet campsite in rural North Pond, Maine.

…


	40. Chapter 40 - A Secret That Isn't

**A/N: It's my party and I cry if I want to. *cries for days* A treat for you on my day. January Birthdays are cold and tiring. If you're** **preggers and due, hold off. Your child will thank you. xoxo**

 **Go read.**

* * *

 **Chapter 40 - A Secret That Isn't**

Charlie sighs. He lets the fork go and it clanks onto the ceramic plate. Chicken and Waffle bits remain. He didn't eat it all. Usually, he'd share it with Renee. She'd get the omelet with the hash. He would sneak forkfuls from her plate to his lips. She'd do the same from his.

What would she think now at what he and Bella have become? Renee would be angry. She'd be sitting across from his booth and tell him to be stern, but gentle with their daughter.

He thought he was. It's different now.

She's grown. She's a woman. The likeness to her mother is strong. He sees it every day, especially over that glow as she grows that baby. Just like her mother.

Charlie makes the trip. It's early, but he likes it like this. He parks and walks over the cool ground, the grass growing slowly by the day. The winter that cloaked the earth has gone. He tried not to think of it, his wife underneath all of that. He can't fathom the ashes to dust, literally melding together. His Renee. Laying there under the snow.

He dusts off the gravestone and kneels before it. A kiss on his hand, he presses to the letters that form her name; right by A mother, A wife, A daughter, and A friend.

His everything.

" _Go_ ," Renee seems to say. He feels it deep in his chest. " _Go to her. She needs you._ " The premonition nudges and nudges. He doesn't get it, but when a man is a parent, he feels things. Right now, he feels something.

He shakes it off. He gets ready to head back to meet Sam. He's already making him wait.

In the car, he revs the engine. He stops at a light and suddenly, he gets the urge to run it. Charlie swerves the car and takes a right. The path leads quickly toward the cabin, but it's a rough drive. He bounces around, carving through the rubble.

" _Quickly_ ," something seems to tell him. The gas pedal hits the floorboard.

The cabin appears, and he's turning that wheel in circles to get there faster. The coast is clear. The door is closed, the lights inside are lit just like he left them. He hops out. He goes around, making turns around the outside of the cabin. Nothing. He goes inside. Still nothing.

What is it? His hands find his hips as he stands in the living room. The window looking over the lake, the treetops. Campers mill about. Canoes sway. Rings spread from ripples of water as ducks take a dip. Everything is as it should be … but one thing.

His eyes scrunch up. There's Jameson by the shore.

Why would he be by the shore, standing there, shuffling his feet like a nervous schmuck? Charlie always did wonder about him.

Where's Bella, though? He can't spot her when he looks around.

He decides to leave the cabin. To get closer. He has to ask.

Just when Charlie steps onto the shore's sand, he spots Sue. She parks by the docks further up, all her equipment in tow; her medical bag, and a bright yellow and black EMT duffle. She runs. They both do. Far and beyond the lake, passing it, and onto a hill.

Charlie breaks out into a run, too.

Never has he ran so fast in his life. Not even in high school track when the coarse ground under his cleats gave him the freedom. His muscles aren't the same as they were but damned if they don't spring up, tense up, and move just as they used to; his heart hammering to every footfall.

 _Bella._

"Hey!" he shouts as he dives and weaves through trees. The two don't hear him. He figures he'll save his breath. Those are coming loudly from his chest.

 _Bella._

The screams are faint but loud enough. That's her. That's his little girl screaming at the top of her lungs in agonizing pain. He speeds up. He loses sight of Sue and Jameson, but her screams are a guide.

"Bella!" he shouts.

And then he yelps out loud. So does Sam. They run right into one another around those tall boulders.

The older man grabs his heart. Charlie is in half at the waist catching his breath. "What in Christ!" he yells hysterically.

"Nevermind that. Just calm down first." Sam lifts a hand.

"Calm down?! I see James and Sue running from the lake. What's happening? Where the hell is Bella?" He waves his arms.

Sam sighs. "It's … a long story. Come," Sam says hesitantly. He disappears beyond the boulders.

Bella is more than occupied, but she hears her father. Her grunts turn to frustrated growls. This can't be. Not like this. Her luck turned to shit. Her panic now tenfold. Sue is calm and steady, hushing her quiet. Her hands speedy over supplies, yet her lips murmur like a lullaby.

James is firing up the gas tank. The stove is his job. He boils the water. His sleeves up, his cheeks red with exertion. Then they go infrared when he spots Charlie wedging himself through the rocks.

"Fuck." His word for the day.

"Bella!" Charlie shouts. He's like a drunken man staggering into a bar to square out a fight; Reckless and aimless.

Bella hears him from inside the tent.

"Where is she?" he says. She waits for it; after a pause, it's inevitable. "What the hell is all this?" And there it is—his utter confusion at the surroundings.

The tent's fabric shakes when he flips it back. And damn if her dreaded cries don't turn to longing. She can't help it, she reaches for him, and father comes running.

Sue shouts orders. James listens intently. A woman in charge. He nods with a 'yes ma'am.' Sue likes that. Her smile warm in contrast with the chaos around her. This is cake, and Dad was right; this will go down as the best story in her book of deliveries.

"Okay now, we'll be pushing soon enough," she says, delving her hand under a quilt. The quilt is red with blood in places. Bella's milky, white legs peeking from under it. Sweat trickles down all their faces. The light of the lamp by the bed, wedged on books, is sufficient enough to brighten everything inside, just as they need it.

It's all perfectly laid out to accommodate an event like this in the most sacred of places—now occupied with life and the noise of screams, grunts, and pushing of a newborn baby. It's like Edward purposely left this space set for his offspring. It'll inherit the very place its father resided. New life in this old, worn bed. Thousands of words in pages of books beneath it, many describing this very moment, the wondrous feeling of life, love, and chaos.

Bella cries, regardless. She heaves and holds tightly to her father's hand, never thinking it would be this way. She wishes with all her might her other hand held Edward's, but her father is just right. This moment could not be as perfect. He kisses her hand and his encouragement pours out with love and whispers of pride her mother would say if she were here.

Jameson helps Sue when she asks. He's right at her elbow, beck, and call. Eyes wide, mind open, taking in, absorbing the lessons. And right then, as the baby crowns its head, he decides he'll do this for the rest of his life.

It's too early for Jameson to know yet that he'll deliver thousands of babies in his lifetime. Among them, Bella's second child; a girl. But this time, it's a boy. He rushes out into this world.

That boy cries and cries; mouth gaping, soft lips around gums, a little pink tongue. He tears through the clearing with his keening like he's giving away this secret place. A secret that isn't so secret anymore.

….


	41. Chapter 41 - Packed In One Delivery

**A/N: Hello again. Oh, it's been a while. Why did I stop? Well, life, but also you wanted to hear from Edward. I also wanted to hear from him. So i waited for him to contact me from wherever he ran to. It took a while. He's a bird, a traveler, and he doesn't know a thing about WiFi or texting. I finally did get the full story down on paper. So, here it is. My goal is for this to be mostly posted before the quarantine ends. But we'll see. There are like 20 chaps or more.**

 **Read back a bit so you'll get into it, but this is the continuation of Bella's ordeal and everybody helping ... or not helping. The timelines of BPOV and EPOV might not be parallel, but it's their experience in two separate worlds. Just focus on their development. Cool?**

 **So, sit back, sit tight, and review your heart away so Edward knows you've been asking about him.**

 **I love you for coming back.**

 **Special thanks to Beta Fran for reading the full chunk of whats left to this fic in one sitting, and making me speechless with her words and reactions. Also to Patrizia for pre-reading and giving me the gut checks of where this should be going. They both carved out from their crazy schedules during this ... scary time to emotionally give this time. I hope it gives you a bit of relief. I needed it also.**

 **Prayers to all the folks out there who really need it. And permission to allow entertainment like this to keep us all sane while we keep healthy, too.**

* * *

 **Chapter 41 - Packed In One Delivery**

Jen and Lauren are having drinks. On a night like this, they need the alcohol desperately. Working shifts, the day had dragged on.

Lauren has a boyfriend now. It's fine, but it irks Jen a bit. This klutz, time and again, gets a break with the opposite sex, yet Jen is still perfect, healthy, bitter, and a normal single. What does a girl gotta do these days? Apps don't help. Clubs definitely don't. And school is full of partying idiots.

She's working internships, but she's not even sure she wants to do office work. Does she? What she really wants to do is become an editor or write. Maybe she'd make millions with her sad life in words on paper, crisp spines in serif letters in bold, pastel, trendy colors. She could do that.

Maybe she can tell how her story has changed. Or so she feels it at the brink. It happened yesterday. She watches Lauren, and she can't come out with it. She can't tell her that a guy they both were enamored with has walked back into her life like the climax of a rom com, except it was only ridiculously hilarious to her in a sad way. Or was it a happy way?

No, she can't tell Lauren. She won't.

But she does wonder if she'll write the story, and someday Lauren will read it and see just how much this asshole always meant to her.

The story would be about the one that got away. That 'one' being Riley. He left for years. They both haven't heard from him. Jen thought last night, when Riley ran into her at the restaurant, that it was serendipitous. It was the last place they had seen one another. He looked different, older, worn at the edges, but his eyes … those bright eyes bore right into her.

Why would fate joke with her this way?

Well, she didn't expect the run-in, not even that tug she felt at her elbow as she walked away, and how it would stir this fire. He said words that clung to her; how he came back for her. He couldn't stop thinking about her. She was a piece of him.

He said those things.

The surprise came slowly, so did the kiss after that.

No, Lauren wouldn't want to know the story of a couple who found one another … and had the most amazing night together that it sealed all the doubt and bitterness Jen feels about what transpired between them. But how to explain the feeling of their coupling and show Lauren how much it meant to her?

Yes, she thinks she would have to break it to her through a book.

Lauren sighs after a rant about a fight with her beau. "And he just throws a fit when he sees the scratch on the car as if it was my fault that car was in the way when I was changing lanes, you know?"

Jen nods. Her body sore from the many ways Riley touched her.

Again, and again.

Lauren looks up over Jen's shoulder, her eyes recognizing someone. Jen's heart runs fast. She looks over.

"Hey, Bella's roommate!" Lauren says, cheerfully. "Anna, right?"

Alice stares at the girl. Her pencil skirt sharp over tall stilettos, she's just off work in a Burberry trench coat, because that's how Alice rolls. "No." Is her response.

Lauren's face falls. "Oh."

Jen smiles warmly, taking a relieved breath once she sees who's really over her shoulder. "Hey, Alice. How's it going?"

Alice rolls her eyes a bit. "Oh, you know, life."

"Yup." Jen grins. "No kidding."

Alice lingers a few feet from the table. She guesses she must small talk. Horrid. "So, yes. How are you … and Bella, I guess? Has she had the hermit baby yet?"

The girls furrow their brows. Jen answers. "I mean, I think? We haven't heard from her in a bit."

Alice lifts a hand and lets it fall over her caramel Birkin hanging from her wrist. Let's see, what else should she ask? What else do people jabber about when running into mutual friends?

"Um, hermit?" interjects Jen. She laughs slightly. Lauren is looking from Alice to her friend. "Does that mean something? Roommate code? Inside joke?"

Alice blinks, then shrugs. "I don't know. Isn't that who the father is instead of 'Jack-off-James'? Some homeless guy who lives in the woods in Maine?"

Jen stares. "Uh, no. I mean, yes, there's a thief at the campsite. Mom But Jameson is, and—wait, how do you know—?"

Alice stares for a beat. "Oh, I guess she wasn't sharing that," she almost says to herself. She shakes it off, rolling her eyes. "Look, I'm running late. I gotta go. Nice seeing you two; this was … great." She forces a tight smile, then does the unthinkable, and gives them a thumbs up.

Jen watches the Wall Street doll walk away.

 _What the fuck?_

Lauren turns to Jen. "Hermit? Why would she say that?"

Jen shrugs and takes a heaping sip of her drink, her eyes glazing over in thought. Instantly, the taste of apple brandy in her glass reminds her of her candle, which in turn reminds her of said candle at her bedside table, which pours in all the memories in snapshots of Riley over her, her legs in the air as she let out all the porn star sounds. The candle did move and then fell … with the vibrations.

She almost smacks her eyes shut to wipe the image off her forehead.

Lauren tilts her head, watching the expressions morph over Jen's face. She shakes her head and grabs her drink but doesn't ask. Both just linger in this silence, in limbo, like Alice's spill is still registering. It will sink in. It takes a moment.

Jen lets her drink drop back on the table with a thunk. She looks at Lauren. "Why would a person like Alice know so much details about the North Pond Hermit?"

Lauren shrugs, giving up. "Who the hell knows?"

"She wouldn't lie about something like that, would she? I mean, what's it to her? That's so beneath her."

"She is pretty fancy. Did you see her purse? God, I'd love to gnaw off the strap right from her delicate stupid wrist and make a run for it. Or gnaw off her wrist? I mean, I'd ruin the strap." She rests her hand under her chin.

"No, I mean. Think about it. They're roommates. They could've talked about … things."

Lauren scoffs slightly. "Well, technically they're not roommates, Bella left to stay at the cabin. I would know, I tried snagging her room, but Alice denied my request. I wonder why she even rents the room anyway. She's loaded, right?"

Bella left to go to the cabin. Right. With that reminder, Jen looks across the bar where Alice sits with a man. They instantly connect eyes. Alice sips on a Martini and looks away from Lauren quickly. And in that look, Jen sees a pinch of regret.

Jen gasps. "Oh, my God!"

The bar around them is loud, but in that instance, everyone glances over at Jen, even Alice, this time with a smidge of pink in her cheeks.

….

"What. The. Fuck."

Bella looks at everyone then back at Jen. She's sitting in the living room. Elliot E. A. Swan moves in her arms. He reaches his lips for milk he knows is close to Bella's chest. Blankets surround them, all the little trinkets of tiny baby bottles and spit-up bibs sit on the coffee table.

"Language!" Charlie says from the kitchen. "There's a baby in the house, for Christ's sake."

Jen takes a step back after barging through the cabin. She drove here this morning in a rush. Lauren tagged along after Jen tediously explained her outburst at the bar.

Jen's cheeks color. "Oh, sorry, Charlie."

"And it's still Mr. Swan."

Jen smiles, still fancying the stache on that handsome man her friend calls Dad.

Charlie walks out with a mug in his hand. He pushes the back porch door and disappears. Jen follows him out with her eyes.

"Uh, okay," says Bella, getting her attention back. She watched her friends come in. She was happy to see them. Now, not so much.

Jameson happens to be sitting there, textbooks around him on the coffee table. He's come over every morning since the tent birth to watch as Elliot breathes and eats, and even poops. It's all so fascinating to him suddenly. Like a switch turned on. He's interested in these little cooing, breathing creatures. Plus, Sue comes, too. She's kept her visits to check on the baby, and he asks her hundreds of questions.

Sue's a mentor now? Well, she likes that, too.

But no one really knows she just comes now to check on the … atmosphere. This is just too good. The story, the circumstance, and the young mother … without a mother around anymore to teach her things about the new processes of caring for a small human.

Well, Sue knows she's kidding herself. She also comes to check out Charlie.

 _Check on_ Charlie.

Yes.

On.

Not out.

She's had never actually met him in person, but had heard of the Swan family through Sam. Now she's met Charlie and in the most precarious of situations. He's been an angry mess and still a storm of emotion in this midst. Honestly, he needs some adult supervision. Or so she says to herself.

Sue has been a bit flustered for days now. It's so not like her.

She pops out of the kitchen with a tray of cocoa for everyone. She's … also making soup. Sue is making soup. No, this is normal for her. Completely normal. She has plenty of time on her hands besides being a doctor, a midwife, and founder of her charity work for the reservation. Plenty of time.

She cringes inside. She smiles and places the tray on the coffee table.

Jen waits for her to leave the room. She turns her eyes to Jameson, then Bella. "You cheap, sneaking liars."

Bella is already red, eyes wide, and feeling faint.

"You two shits think you can lie to us about something so fucking monumental?"

"Jen," Bella warns, once she gets where she's going. Jen's next words get caught in her throat with Bella's look. She straightens from leaning on the back of a chair and looks over at the porch.

Oh. Charlie doesn't know.

Lauren waits for the punchline. It never comes. She glances at Jen, who's stopped talking. So she figures she should just go for it.

"The baby's father is the North Pond Hermit, not Jameson?"

Fuck. There it is. It's out in the open. Every word packed in one delivery. Typical, clueless Lauren to the rescue. Jen turns to her, panicked.

Everything goes silent.

The baby fusses loudly, like he's confirming the question himself.

The porch swings open with force. "What?"

Sue rushes out of the kitchen. "Charlie," she chimes in soothingly as she quickly goes to him.

Just then, Sam walks in, too. The porch door being open already. He looks around, confused.

"Who's Elliot's father?" Charlie is loud.

Sam's face pales. "Charlie, calm down."

Charlie turns around to face Sam. "Calm down?" He takes a step. "The last time you told me to calm down, I ran into a fucking tent to watch my grandson being born!"

Sam grimaces.

"So, who's tent was it? No one even mentioned the obvious," he yells. "Everyone seemed to find it just fine!" He rushes to say, waving his arms.

"We hike out of there by paramedics who had to be led there with their equipment by GPS," Charlie continues. "Everyone seemed to have completely ignored the fact that there's a fucking apartment complex, no roof, in the middle of the fucking woods!

"And then you all take my daughter, my grandson..." He jabs at his chest. "Rush right out of there without so much as a single explanation ..." he sneers through his teeth, pinching his index and thumb shakily. He rubs his head, down to his face.

His arms splay wide. "Still, no answers?" He waits.

Utter silence.

Sam clears his throat. "The father is a young, simple man who lives in the woods. Correct, that _was_ his living space, has been for years, impressively hidden. And yes, he has a bad reputation through these campsites, people know _of_ him. It's really quite unfortunate if you asked me.

"You've seen him before on a hike, you asked about him years ago. You were both … curious," he says, referring to him and Bella. "He's not a complete mystery to you. Never was, actually.

"He's just a young man with tremendous self-preservation, all for the discipline of a unique lifestyle. He's … harmless." Sam pauses to gage Charlie. "Are those the answers you are looking for?"

Charlie is all blank, wide eyes.

Sam shrugs. "It's simple, really. Everything else is self-explanatory, I think." He glances at Bella, who's frozen in place. He sucks his teeth, looking back at Charlie. "Kids these days, right?" He chuckles slightly, scratching his neck.

Reasons what moved Sam to be the narrator of this story will forever be a mystery, even to him.

Regardless, everyone is grateful.

Charlie's pointed finger trembles vigorously toward his old friend. "So, you knew?" he asks. He looks around, then at Sue. She looks away and takes a step back. "Everyone knows that my grandson's father is the fucking, North Pond thieving hermit, but me?!" he bellows.

Jameson stands. "Sir."

Charlie turns to him with a blazing stare. "Boy, I wouldn't dare…" he warns with a shake of his head.

"Dad, please. Let me explain." Bella's trembling voice finally chimes in pleadingly. She tries to shuffle to her feet, but Elliot begins to cry like his mother wants to so badly.

Charlie raises a hand toward his daughter, his eyes tightly shut.

He turns in circles, then aims right for the door and into his car.

…


	42. Chapter 42 - He Regrets

_EPOV begins..._

 **Chapter 42 - He Regrets**

"Sir?"

The sun blinds him. There's heaviness over his chest.

"Can you hear me?"

He doesn't want to wake up. Not now. Not ever.

Let this earth swallow him up. Dust to dust. He's already turned to ashes.

"Sir, can you squeeze my hand?" A nudge.

The beams of the sun have rainbow reflections at the edges. He's used to seeing those when he'd look up between the treetop covering the sun just enough to catch the edge; he'd stare up and catch those visible rays. Now they beam down on him harshly, no trees to shade. Not even a split of his eyelids can let him see past it.

Blinded.

"Get him oxygen," the voice says.

He hears it far away. Then, like the parting of paper adhesive, two parts splitting smoothly, his body does the same. He's above looking down. He doesn't recognize himself. His T-shirt torn; pants worn over splayed dirty boots. The only ones he could find when he was home.

Home.

The only place that felt like home. He left, and maybe it was the biggest mistake of his life.

No rest. No sleep since he's been away from his tent.

It's been a winding road of confusion and bad choices he'd never make months ago. Right now, he would be tuning the radio, cracking open a book and waiting for night to come to sneak into that lake and find relief on a very placid day.

He regrets.

...


	43. Chapter 43 - He Sees Trees

**Chapter 43 - He Sees Trees**

 _EPOV continues..._

The constant beep wakes him.

He stirs. It's slow. Everything hurts. He hasn't felt pain like this since winter biting at his limbs, burning, but this is different. No cold. This is heat, blood pebbling over raw skin. He feels aches and burns like rocks were the grater and him the cheese. Well, it was like that. He tumbled and slid on hard rocks.

He can't remember much yet. He's too consumed with pain. Hands trembling as he pulls on the oxygen at his nose. He's alone. He cracks his eyes open, and he can't ever remember being in a hospital bed. Not ever. Not even when he was young.

His heart makes the beep accelerate. Where is he? How did he get here?

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and like sparks, memories come.

He jumped out. He jumped before they charged past the border patrol. Something like that. Something terrible. He can't remember much. But he does remember opening the door, jumping out of a moving vehicle, and tumbling down the hill by the road's shoulder.

Everything, all his things are gone. He jumped with just the clothes on his back and regret. So much anger at himself … and regret.

He pulls all the cords off, the line, the heart rate monitor, pinching his finger, the sheets. He pulls off the scratchy blue gown, finds his clothes, and leaves the room.

He looks this way, then that way down a long hospital hallway. The coast is clear. He doesn't know the protocol, but this is not his. He must get out. The woods call him even though he's days away, having left behind a comfortable tent and all.

He knows he must seem casual, normal, but a man so wrecked, how could he pretend? He leans against a wall to breathe. Fluorescents blind him this time. He's gotten far. The exit sign is just ahead. He must get there.

"Hey!" Someone shouts. A groggy, drugged voice from a room. A guy is pointing right at Edward from his bed; the door opened across the way.

What are the chances he stops to rest at this very spot?

"You piece of shit. I'll kill you!" The guy shouts. He jerks his arm, and to Edward's luck, his wrist is bound by cuffs.

Edward's eyes open fully … no droopy lids this time. He has to run. Get away. Never come back.

The cop appears down the hall, and he's walking this way.

Edward's spine goes cold. He must not get caught. He must not be asked questions. His fingerprints cannot be taken. He is invisible. He is a nobody. He is fine as a nobody. Things must remain sacred.

"I'll find and kill you, you thief. Thief! Thief!" he shouts now so the cop can hear.

Edward gathers strength and walks past that room and out the 'EXIT,' the sign pointing the way. That man still yelling behind him.

Fresh air hits him, and he breathes, but not leisurely. He breathes to save his life.

He runs, panting large gulps of air. He sees trees, and he runs like he never has towards them.

…


	44. Chapter 44 - How He Should Be

**Chapter 44 - How He Should be**

 _EPOV continues..._

The evening glow in oranges and purples cloak the sky. It just darkens his path, the light dimming between the trees. No flashlight, no jacket, no supplies. He must fight this night alone. Angry. So angry. He ended up like this. With nothing.

Wincing, his eyes close.

His hunger always wins. His hunger is his weakness.

If he just hadn't broken into that house, told himself to wait, to not do it, to listen to his gut feeling, he wouldn't be in this mess.

He looks around. He tries to find coves, fallen trees, or rocks for cover. Anything. Maybe he can weave together branches to build a shelter.

His muscles curdle, stretch, and burn.

Maybe he can't.

Edward stumbles over roots, tripping his feet, and right where he falls, he sleeps.

Maybe dead is how he should be.

...


	45. Chapter 45 - Turn Around

**a/n: This is how he got into this mess, the start. Days before ...**

 **thanks for reading and reviewing! xoxo Happy Easter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 45 - Turn Around**

 _EPOV Days before..._

It's a big house deep in the woods. Far from where he came. He hiked for almost three days. He'd stop, his stomach would growl at him, and he'd eat. He'd sit on his bin with everything he needs in it, and he'd chew on whatever food he carried. One bite or two. He was tired. Maybe three or four bites that time. Rationing food every day is a game of roulette. He'd drink from a canteen. He had plenty of everything.

Eventually, not enough.

He never thought hiking this far, this long, would bring nothing in sight. Trees and streams and more trees. Maybe a deer or two in the distance looking at him, ears pointed as they'd freeze.

After a day, he sat and wondered if he should go back. The feeling was strong. The anger even more so.

He'd sigh hard. Rub his eyes, wishing the image of Bella would rub off, too.

Bella. _Bella._

Still, he works the name through his lips. Thinking of all the historical Isabella's he's read about: the Isabellas of England, and Castile. Yet none so eccentric as this one. The one he grew to know.

Why would he go back? There's nothing there. No food. No resources. _She's_ not there. She's moved on. A bulging belly to prove she's moved on. That boy in her life, in her pictures, he's there, everywhere, moving on with her.

So Edward stood, and he kept going. He let the thoughts go. Maybe keep them for later.

Three days, and now the food is sparse on the fifth. That house. The one house he's run into this entire time. He camps out far enough not to be seen, and he watches.

Just watches.

Every move is recorded. Every windowpane observed. This is his day job. The one he does well. Patience is virtue.

What he does see is the lack of movement. The empty driveway. Possibly an empty garage. And there it is. The weak spot. The loophole. The garage light at the top flickering. He lifts his glasses to his head and observes. The energy lagging, working hard to get the garage protected. A measly security system for such a house. Internally he laughs maniacally. Bingo. Jackpot. This one will be easy.

When the moment seems right, he leaves the bin behind at his hiding spot. He walks up. And like alarms, hundreds of them go off in his gut.

 _Turn around._

But this is easy. It'll be quick. He tells himself this.

 _Turn around._

This one will be like lounging on the lawn chair by his tent. The ease of sliding into it and forgetting, letting the open sky gently lie right on him.

 _Turn._

No. This one is it. Nothing else around here for miles. Tired. Hungry.

So, his hands fumble blindly for that camera after walking around the visible spots. One snap of the box behind it. One tug of a wire. _Pull there._ _Twist there. Now disconnected._ The light that flickered goes out. At the same time, the garage door opens at the bottom, a slight pop. Silent enough.

He would smirk, but he's anything but professional. This is survival mode. Charity. He hates it, but it's taking him further, for more miles.

He pulls that door from the bottom and slides under. The inside door is that way. The kitchen connects to this part of the house; seamless.

He gathers what he can from the pantry. Barely anything, but enough. He opens his backpack and tosses things inside.

The fridge. The light brightening everything inside. He finds the switch to 'off.' He holds it while he looks. Cheese, ham, hot dogs, bread. Anything. Cold refreshments lined at the bottom. A handful of those for the bin. This all means they will be home soon. Nothing spoiled yet, so he hurries.

But first, batteries. There must be some. This cabinet of knickknacks? Bingo. Too easy. He grabs a package.

When he turns, three men are silently watching him from the shadow at the door he came in from. One guy picks up an apple from a bowl. He bends a finger from around it and beckons Edward silently. They file out from where they came.

Edward looks around. Never been caught. Never stirred like this. His heart begins to hammer. This isn't supposed to be this way. Heart-hammerings are for the end of the job, when he runs off. There are no other exits around, but far in the living room. Should he run? He can't follow them. He won't.

They've caught him red-handed, cookie jar empty. He even took those.

….


	46. Chapter 46 - Pack of Hotdogs

**Chapter 46 - Pack of Hotdogs**

 _EPOV Days before, continued..._

He's hesitant, but dreadfully makes the walk back to the garage door. He locks the inside as it was, closing the kitchen. He sees the shadows of feet under the cracked garage door. They wait.

Christ.

He looks around quickly. A crowbar hangs from a cork wall. He grabs that. He hides it in his sleeve.

He slides out from under the garage door. He doesn't look for them, but he untwists the wires. The light over the door lights up.

The men scurry out of view. One shouts a curse as he dives out of the way.

Not the owners then, Edward guesses.

They wait for him deep in the woods. His bin is close.

Edward just glances silently at them. No eye contact. He's stirred.

"Who are you?" One asks.

Edward's not answering. He begins to walk away.

A chump holds his shoulder. Edward shrugs it off. The guy lifts his hand.

"Apologies," he says.

"Who are you?" Apple bitten in hand.

Nothing.

"Mute?"

Edward flickers his eyes at them. His anger now spiking.

"So …" the guy shuffles his feet and grins. He throws the apple core to the side. "You can do that? Easy? You look like you had practice."

Edward sizes them up. They're all about the same build. Apple muncher is older, wider, rougher at the edges.

"You hiking?" Shoulder grasper asks. He seems genuine. Dark shaggy hair, dark eyes. "We are too. Saw this place and wanted to stop, but we noticed it was already … in use." He chuckles. "Impressive."

The other guy sucks his teeth of remnant apple bites and nods, grinning. The third guy is just silently watching. Edward is sweating a little, knees weak. He remains calm, regardless.

He walks, he leaves them behind. And then something tragic happens.

They follow. They're all questions.

"You live around here?"

Edward picks up his bin.

"Baggage. That's a no," one of them says, noticing.

"Yo, _Mute_. You sign?" Shoulder grabber catches up to him. "My cousin does. I only know some. He commences to show him. Edward's had a book. The guy is completely off, and he's signed something about a sandwich, ends it with his undying love. Edward only sees from his peripheral.

"So, we've been hiking, too. We have a van far ahead. You need a ride?" He shrugs. "We're planning to head to Canada. Where are you headed?"

The others are quiet, but curiously listening to the monologue ahead.

The talker sighs. "Honestly, we're kind of hungry. Like starving." He scratches his head. "We've been walking for so long we got lost. We saw the house and didn't know how to … tackle it. We've never done that—break in."

They do look like they've been hiking for days. Smell like they have.

Edward just quirks his lip, internally he's growling. "We don't know what we're doing. We're lost and need to get back to our van. But now we can't find it."

Begrudgingly, Edward stops and grabs the pack of hotdogs and a drink for each. He leaves it on the ground and walks away.

They don't follow, to his relief. But the next morning, when Edward wakes up, he finds his bin is gone.

…


	47. Chapter 47 - Environmentally Acceptable

**a/n: So much handmaid's tale binging, babies and more babies, I had to post about this cute one. Thanks for the reviews. Go read!**

* * *

 **Chapter 47 - Environmentally Acceptable**

 _BPOV continues..._

Bella has cried in her sleep more times than not. Well, there's barely any sleep. This baby is alive and present. Elliot makes himself known. Bella's spirit.

When he's fed, dry, and comfortable, Elliot is quiet as a mouse. He's content with watching his surroundings in his bassinet, quietly, without revealing himself awake. Bella pops her head over to check on him every second, it seems. It irks her. Sometimes he's _too_ quiet. Edward's spirit.

His little, clear blue eyes boar right into her soul. Bella sees Edward in them, and she cries. Elliot just watches as she does, like he knows something. His little hand flexing up and across her cheek once, like he was wishing her to calm.

Well, she can't. Charlie hasn't spoken to her. Charlie left for a whole day, then came back early the next morning. Bella heard his steps walk by. The door of her room open, her back to it trying to sleep, but failing, yet again.

She kept still. Elliot wasn't. As usual, he was up, staring at the world around him quietly. And it's like he knew someone familiar was close. His little feet kicked; his arms punched the air. He was reaching.

Charlie hesitated. Bella felt him. He stood by the door and then walked by. Bella's heart sank. She wished so badly Mom was here to rationalize with him. She would convince him it's not the baby's fault. But Bella has no place arguing with him. She has no weight in this anymore. In anything.

Elliot shouted out anyway. Charlie walked away, but he shouted out for him. And those familiar boots slowly walked back. Bella pinched her lips, not to let out a sound as Charlie lifted the boy up and into his arms. They both took a walk around the house. Cooings from Elliot, and whispered words from Charlie's mouth. Bella fell into a much needed, deep sleep until noon.

"So, where is he?"

Bella's tired eyes go a bit wide at the question. Her coffee mug midair.

Charlie lounges back in the kitchen chair, a bib over his shoulder, Elliot sucking on a four-ounce bottle like its air for his lungs. The suckling noise calming, but strong. Little blue veins under his pale skin where his throat bobs willingly. Charlie skillfully pops out the nipple and adjusts the boy to sit and burp. Elliot's mouth screwed up under soft folds of cheeks over his grandfather's wrist. Elliot watches Bella—a panicked Bella.

"I … don't know."

Charlie gives her a look. He sighs.

"So what, he leaves when you tell him? That's who this guy is? A deadbeat on top of a thief? Jesus."

Bella closes her eyes and sighs. "He doesn't fucking know."

"Language."

"Oh, cut the shit, Dad. You want to know the truth? I did this to _him_. I … forced him into this damned relationship. Whatever it was. He's nothing like you think. Nothing.

"What? He stole your damn barrels to survive? A jar of our fucking peanut butter—"

Charlie points a finger. "Our damned lemon chicken. Your mother's chickens," he interrupts.

"—and he deserves this wrath?" she speaks over him. "This man—"

He scoffs. "Man."

"—he is the kindest, purest soul I've ever … more than I can ever say about you!" she raises her voice. "For years, I got to know who he really was, and I fell for him hard. Now, this. He left before I had the chance to tell him. Are you happy? That sure as hell should make you happy! I was an idiot to pursue him, but it's too late now, isn't it?"

Charlie cuts his eyes to her. "Years? You mean to tell me this has been going on for years?"

"Years," Bella spits. "Right under your nose," she jabs sarcastically. "Every chance I got, I took a nice long hike."

"Bella, there are sheriffs, detectives, even rifled men who've been looking for him for years. How the hell did you manage to find him? Do you realize how dangerous...?"

Bella chuckles over his speech. "Give an infatuated girl a task, she'll comb the Sahara, outrun the CIA. I'm telling you, you figure it out. With a good ounce of curiosity and utter summer-boredom, you'd find a Sasquatch, Dad. Fucking Bigfoot."

Charlie ignores her. They speak over one another in this lightning round.

"And all the while you're tight-lipped, and he's tearing through these cabins like he owns the place! How many times he must've taken from us, and it's like you left the door wide open."

"For books?" She raises her brows. "You're arguing about stolen books and canned food?"

"It's the principle," he argues.

"I had no control over that part of his life. I didn't help him steal. We literally just talked!"

"Talked, right." He tilts his head. "Babies are made through small talk. Chit-chat about the damned weather."

Bella growls, clawing the air.

"A criminal is what he is. My grandson's father is a damned criminal."

"Well, I guess I fell in love with a fucking criminal. Lock me up! Throw away the key for life," she shouts sarcastically.

He tsks. "Love. Is this what you think this is? Bringing a child into this … mess because of love? An obsession is what it was. I know you well."

Bella's shoulders drop. "For Christ's sake … I'm opening up to you. I'm being honest. I'm telling you about something that really happened, that was real to me. Extraordinary. It's mortifying to admit to my father that, me—" she says, hitting her chest. "—I have to deal with this consequence for the rest of my life. So, what's it to you? Why tear yourself apart over my mistake?"

"What's it to me?! You're my daughter. I promised your mother I would take care of you!" He's furious, but his hands are gentle as he brings the bottle back to an eager Elliot.

Bella is quiet after taking a sharp breath. Her eyes prickling under her fingertips, draining at the edges at the mention of her mother.

She gives up.

"Me," he enunciates, still yelling. "It's all up to me. Your safety is mine. Your well-being is all mine. And now it's doubled!"

She shakes her head. "Not my life. And not Edward's. He's mine to keep. Even if he never comes back." Her voice breaks.

Lightning round over. Just two individuals at each other's corners completely defeated.

Charlie bites his tongue. He watches her melt into long, curling, saddened tears. He looks away, but can't help glancing over at the laments. The pain. Renee would know what to do. This is not his forte.

"I lost him," she says, muffled over her arms. "I never had the chance to tell him about Elliot. And I will never see him again." Her head on her hands, they lie flat on the table. She sobs.

Charlie lets her. What else could he do? He sees her like this, and he can't help but let it sink in. He's never witnessed his brave, curious, and independent girl simmer to this. She's half herself. Her features older, different even. Her face, a permanent streak of worry. He sees her now, just like this, and he gets it, all these months her acting so strange. He thinks back, and the behavior has been relentless; when she didn't want to leave to start school, insisting on coming and staying at the cabin. Everything was with intention.

He's … impressed. She played this skillfully.

"Then who's on the paperwork? What's his last name?" He looks down at Elliot. He can't help but ask after stretched silence. He saw her signing the birth certificate at the hospital, heard her mention all the names, but the last, figuring it would be Jameson's. He's curious now. "What does E. A. stand for? Environmentally Acceptable?" He touches Elliot's nose. Elliot is rapt by this stubborn man.

Bella sniffs up all her courage. "Edward Anthony, _his_ names," she answers, ignoring his horrible humor. "But he's a Swan if … that's all right with you."

"C'mere." Charlie gestures. When she doesn't move, he insists. He adjusts the baby in one arm and curls his other around Bella, who sits on his lap. Three generations of Swans.

"That is more than all right with me," he says before a pause. Charlie thinks. "Does that hermit—"

"Edward."

"Edward," he corrects, rolling his eyes. "Does he have a family? He must. Will they find out? Don't you think they'd know?"

Bella nods once over his shoulder. "My plan is to find them. It was always my plan before ... all of this. I will somehow."

Charlie is quiet, then adds. "Carefully. We don't know who they are, and Elliot is ours. You got that?"

Bella covers her mouth to hide the watery smile where he can't see.

"Thank Christ your mother didn't know about this. She wouldn't take this … insanity. She'd kill us all," he says, sighing, but his voice goes high as he talks straight to Elliot, who's still utterly rapt.

Bella makes a face. Charlie's eyes narrow at her silence.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" he yells.

Elliot shows Charlie his pink little gums when his smiling muscles get working, conveniently the first time.

…


	48. Chapter 48 - The Silver Lining

**A/N: i got a wave of new readers and this is exciting. best fandom evah. thanks for the reviews. tomorrow a long one. xoxox**

* * *

 **Chapter 48 - The Silver Lining**

 _EPOV continues..._

No bin means no food. Edward is furious. He's beside himself. He's—how he hasn't felt in years—angry. He hikes and watches his back. No sign of thieves around him. He hikes, and he's not himself, feeling emotions he hasn't felt in years. Complete and utter fury. But then he stops to take a break as he's been pounding his feet on the ground, going faster and faster as his mind runs.

He did that. He took from people like these guys took from him. That bin wasn't his, the food in it the same. His heart shrinks. His soul quiets. The grieving of things is how others must've felt.

What will he do now? How could he continue to live like this? Well, he has to. He's here now, lost in the woods. He'll die here.

He looks up. He sighs. A rooftop is beyond and above some treetops. He has nothing. He knows in his gut it's to survive. He must get food.

His steps drag, but he gets there. He's watching the grounds, the movement in the house, and it's all perfect for a break-in. He tells himself it's for the last time, for a long while. He'll have to do with what he finds.

It's one swift move of his hand, and the strange house is disarmed, open. He steps in and aims for the kitchen. Relief at finding things he needs.

And just as he's stuffing the items in his backpack, a van is visible through the windows. It screeches to a halt off the driveway. Three men pour out.

Edward's stomach twists and turns because they look familiar. And so does the bin inside the van, visible through the open doors.

They all look up in time to lock eyes through the glass doors of the kitchen. Edward's life drains from his face as they grin.

The silver lining; he's found his bin.

….


	49. Chapter 49 - Hard Tumbling Blur

**a/n: xoxoxo. hope you're all safe, or at least showered today. or not, who cares at this point. shrug emoji. happy monday!**

* * *

 **Chapter 49 - Hard Tumbling Blur**

 _EPOV continues..._

"You're sticking with us, right Mute? You're not running."

The Glock is tight in one of the guy's grip, swinging at his side.

"Go on and do your magic. I'll wait here," he gestures toward a house.

What is this? A heist? Are they a team now?

Yesterday, Edward found himself in a house taking food. That time, he had to grab enough for four men. The fridge was left empty, the pantry the same. One of the three helped to get the items out from the back door, cleanly unlocked, no split door frames, or break-ins.

They ate like kings in the van for 'lunch.' Edward did not. He listened to the suckling of fingers and hums of hungry men, the only sounds.

It's nighttime. They've had their glutinous meal for the day and now they work. This is routine. It's been like this for two days. There was no way out of his predicament. No way to run. Edward is the new shiny nickel in this deranged gang of thieves. Now, he sits by his bin where he spots it. Stolen items all around him, no seats in here to take up space, but to give room for _things_. He sits on the floor of the van and wonders how the hell he got here. Anxiety stricken.

Edward feels this new pressure of figuring out the way around houses without really going through the process. His process: Looking in. Staking out. Checking things twice. He fears they'll run into a security system he can't crack.

What then?

The inept sign language guy stands back, and he's quiet now. No casual chat like he did days ago. This is business now. He's boss. He waits for Edward to tear into these houses for them. He waits with a gun in hand, aimed at his back.

There have been so many houses.

Edward observes the wire box where all this could go right or wrong.

Maybe he should make it go wrong.

What would he do? He'd have to run, leave everything behind. All his things.

He reaches in. Click goes the locks.

They're in. Edward stands back.

All the while, he's looking at his surroundings, challenging the idea that maybe this could be it. Well, he'll try. He can't let this continue; being stuck in a fast-moving van against his will.

Time is molasses. The gunman is antsy, his pacing obvious. He looks down at the gun and seems to triple check the … lock? The magazine? Edward doesn't know. All he does know are guns in books. Their lock on or off. The bullet left in the chamber once it's cocked. He's never felt one in his hands, but the times are countless when he's read about their danger. Good guys, bad guys, geniuses, and assassins. Even scared humans in unfortunate situations where they were pushed into using one. Edward has read every scenario, just, nothing like this one he finds himself in.

That's Edward. The pushover. The fool who let this happen to him.

Has he been away from civilization that long? Does he show signs of weakness? It may all be true, but one thing is clear, Edward was never made for this. This is why he runs. This is why he hides. Meaningless goals, all for money and things; crime that is beyond what he's ever done.

His mind runs. His mind is a twisted maze of frantic plays on how to get out of this. He won't learn it in a book, nor the stars, as he looks up at them at night. The weather won't tell him how far or how fast to run. He's alone. Defenseless.

His hands shake enough to make these break-ins troubling. He wrings his palms together.

His heart hasn't stopped pounding. Ever.

The gunman paces away. Edward tilts his head to look.

This is his chance.

He reaches up and slides the memory card back into place. All the lights in the house go on.

There's banging inside, taking everyone by surprise.

Then there's shouting.

Well, Edward wasn't expecting the lights, nor the alarm, but definitely not the fact that the owners could be home.

In this house, there are people inside.

The high-pitched alarm shrieks at the same time as there is a ruckus of shouts and running and banging.

Edward runs. Then the rest follow rushing out the door. And fuck it all to hell, again they're following Edward.

"Go, go!" the Talker shouts. Gunshots are heard behind, and they're coming from inside the house. A man in boxers appears by the French doors. His shadow against the bright lights of a kitchen. He's shouting. Edward only gets a glimpse as he charges off, feet as feathers, faster than his might could let him.

The guy with the Glock in hand is already behind the wheel.

They jump in. Edward with a lead heart at how this turned out.

Tires eat the road, screeching, and skating. Horns blare around them from incoming traffic. Signs above telling them a freeway ahead is wide open.

Sweating, breaths coming heavy, Edward knows this has gone too far. His eyes follow the trees and scenery as they pass in flashes by the windows, and it's been years since Edward has been in something so fast. He's slow. He's walking. He's all feet moving through trees. No engine to fire things up and make him go, go, go. He's snail-paced. Turtle life.

Blue and red lights in the distance colors the leaves.

"Fuck!" The driver grunts. The others crawl to the back and look out the small windows.

"We're fucked," he shouts. He bangs hard fists onto the steering wheel again and again. He curses a third and fourth time. Everyone looks upfront. "Border patrol, incoming!"

Well, they got to Canada. Just not how they planned it all.

With his heart just about ready to come out of his chest, Edward seizes the moment, the distraction. He pulls on his backpack, his bin, and reaches for the door.

"Don't you fucking think about it, Mute!" the driver yells, quickly glancing back. "I know it was you back there!" he says about sounding the alarm. "If I go, you go down," he spits.

 _No_.

This fury riles up in Edward. He goes for the door again, but he grunts. His leg is pulled until he's sliding on his stomach. The other guy pounds on him from above. They struggle, arm in arm, the strength of two men in their desperate state of defense. With a jab of his knee, the guy goes silent and stiff between his legs. He tumbles away. The Talker jumps in and gets a swing. Edward sends another from below where he lays, making the guy's jaw pivot.

And that crowbar makes a show.

Edward barely looks for that piece of metal. It seems to sprout legs and climb into his fist.

The Talker is now silent, dead weight over him. One swing at his head was enough. The crowbar flies when the van swerves.

Edward looks to the front. He catches the driver trying to reach for that Glock.

He dives in. He slaps it out of his hand. The gun tumbles to the floorboards.

He pulls back his fist, letting it rip teeth and skin. The driver's head snaps to the side twice with the swings. Edward's fist is solid. All the adrenaline and desperate force behind it.

The van skids off the road. Edward is tossed, sending him back against the doors. The dipped shoulder to the freeway tilts the van off its axis. Everyone howls as they all brace themselves until the van slows and drops back on all fours.

And just as this moment aligns with an inkling of luck, Edward squeezes the latch to the door.

Everything is a hard tumbling blur.

…


	50. Chapter 50 - A Favor

**A/N: Just some notes - Last chap Edward jumped out of the van. He woke up in a hospital (chap 42), which he escaped from (chap 43). He's free again - ish (chap 44). We'll see where he ends up in a few chaps. I dumbly used two Alices in this story: Alice as Bella's college** **roommate with a Berkin bag, and Alice as Edward's sister. Two diff people, but I figured it's fine, since life has multiple Alices. :-) You'll also see the differences.**

 **Thank you sooo much for the reactions. I love you. It just gets better. Enjoy the ride.**

* * *

 **Chapter 50 - A favor**

 _BPOV continues..._

The door is locked, the windows, too. It's early. Super early. But Bella has been watching a very guilty Jen sit outside on that swing for a while now. Her shoulders hunched over. She's making this show. Making it obvious. She regrets her slip, or Lauren's, and she's out there trying to get Bella to talk to her.

Bella rolls her eyes. She knows she's just curious to know more details on all the 'whys,' and 'hows,' and 'whens.' And maybe 'what the fucks' for not sharing.

Bella pushes open the window.

"It's not working, all right? Might as well go home."

Jen doesn't move but for her shoulders, which hunch over more.

"And that's my swing!" Bella taunts. She covers her mouth with her shoulder to smother the snort. Being as her arms are occupied with a very smelly, very cute Elliot who needs a bath. These are the moments Bella savors. His eyes bright as she lets him sit in a little puddle of warm, sweet water. Legs curled, arms up and to the sides. Tense, like he'll float away. _Don't let go._ Is what he seems to say.

It makes her chuckle low, because _that_ was how Edward looked when they floated in the lake together. Same terrified look in his eyes. She thinks—no—she knows he also meant, _don't let go._

She sighs. "Never, baby boy."

She's got everything ready, just his onesie and diaper to untie.

She looks up at Jen. "Welp, if you're not going to leave, then I guess you'll have to help me with Elliot's bath. It's a very dirty job. Lots of labor. Your punishment. He won't take no for an answer."

Her head turns. Who could resist a moment like this?

"Key is under the same spot. Come in, you loud-mouth." Bella smiles when she sees her come running.

Jen hugs her shoulders from the back, her mouth snug to her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm a dumb bitch."

"I mean, we all try, but fail at times," Bella says. Understatement, she thinks silently. She sighs, holding up Elliot to the early light. Not a failure by any stretch, but a perfect achievement, this one. She's in love. Her heart aches every time she looks at him. "Really, you did me a favor. Like a Band-Aid," she adds.

Elliot blinks slowly in a wrinkled ball as he looks around. His tongue poking out a little. His diaper sagging at his small bare belly.

"Gah. He's so cute!" Jen coos. She grabs him from her and is the official baby holder while Bella does the work. Neck kisses between waiting is a requirement.

After a while, when the bum is clean, and so are his feet, hands, and under layers of chins, Bella is serious and honest.

"I let you in because I love you, but also because I need a favor," she says, watching Jen struggle with the snaps around Elliot's freshly diapered butt. One needs a Nobel prize for such tasks—tedious and puzzling.

Jen grunts. "What? Yes. Anything. What the hell is wrong with this thing?" She finishes saying, frustrated.

Bella slaps her fingers away and pulls on the bottom flap to show her the onesie is definitely inside out.

"Oh my god. I'm sweating already!" She exclaims as she realizes she's got to start over. "How do people do this multiple times a day?"

"And night," Bella points. Her dread in her voice. Sues teachings have gone far and beyond, being as Bella is a complete juvenile in all this. But she's learning. More so from forced experience. _Hold his head. Always hold his head. Feed him reclined. Burp him every few ounces. Don't touch his hands a lot, he sucks on them. No mouth kisses. No pillows in the crib or bassinet. And for the love of all things, hold his head._

Sue is on speed dial most of the day. The texts are endless.

Elliot begins to keen. That hole in his belly gaping and aching after a warm bath. "Better hurry, he's ravenous now. He's gonna nap so hard after eating. Whooey." Bella taunts Jen.

Jen mumbles worries and profanities. Her hands trembling. "Okay, buddy. Don't murder me."

Edward always was so hungry. His drive to survive was food. Bella sighs. Her heart breaking momentarily. This is the cycle: one move or look, is one reminder. She's flooded with memories.

"Bella, why didn't you ever tell me?" Jen asks softly. She picks up Elliot, and he's now full-on crying. Jen is fumbling. Bella grabs him and pops in the bottle, ready for him.

"What, like you telling me how in love you are with Ryan and how you both cheated on Lauren?"

Jen perks, suddenly skeptical. "How the hell do you know?"

Bella narrows her eyes. "Know what?"

Jen looks elsewhere. "Never mind."

"I guess I'll plead 'never mind,' too." Bella scoffs.

Jen presses her eyes together. "Fine. He came back, and we fucked. Like five times."

Bella lets her jaw sag, and then her shoulders bob with the laugh. Elliot bounces, too.

She tells her the details of his return, and now they're giggling like loons.

Bella sobers from laughing. "Well, it was too much of a secret to share mine. It would've revealed where he lived," she says about Edward. "I would've lost him. Well, I did, anyway."

Jen watches a pensive mother over her baby. How … sad.

"Whatever you do, Jen, don't let Ryan go. Life's too short." Bella says. She shrugs. "At least he wants you."

Jen is sheepish. "What will you do?"

Bella quirks her lips. "You're looking at it. I'll go back to school when I can. Get a job sooner than that."

"And … wait?" Jen offers.

Bella is quiet. The moment she laid eyes on Elliot, Jameson's words came rushing. His daily badgerings came loud and clear. She'll move on. Live through the aching hurt. What else is there? A baby needs her now.

"No. I won't," she answers, but maybe it isn't completely honest. "He's not coming back. And why would he? He doesn't know. He's doing what he knows best. Being alone. I can't fault him."

Jen smiles softly. "What's he like? I pictured him a crazy old man."

Bella frowns. "He's wondrous. And he's gorgeous. Really gorgeous inside." They quietly watch the boy who looks a lot like him.

Jen says, thoughtlessly. "Of course, you'd keep it to yourself."

Bella is quiet. Tears have pretty much run dry at this point. What _is_ the point?

"You still work at the agency?" Bella asks. "You still do research and find property owners in the area, right?" Jen nods, confused. "Like I said, I need a favor."

Jen would do anything to be in Bella's good graces, and to be out of her state of boredom.

…


	51. Chapter 51 - Bushes of Lilacs

**Chapter 51 - Bushes of Lilacs**

 _BPOV continues..._

Jen and Bella look out the front window of the car.

The front is fanned with bushes of lilacs, you can barely see the house.

"Is this it?" Bella asks.

Jen is sure.

They look around some. The small town is a nook right outside of the campsite, some twenty minutes away. That boggles Bella's mind. To think he was that close to home, to his family. He probably didn't know.

The scene outside their windshield is like a postcard. Small Mom 'n Pop shops, a diner, a market, and fields of hilly greens that connect to the North Pond woods.

"Wanna try?"

Bella shakes her head immediately. She promised she'd just stake it out for now. At least the first time until she conjures up the courage to knock. So they sit there for hours, it seems.

Finally, there's movement. A man in a plaid shirt, worn jeans, and a baseball cap comes through the gate between the lilacs. He crosses the street.

Bella's blood runs cold.

"What?" Jen.

Bella shakes her head, blinking. She feels faint. The way that man walks, the long arms and wide shoulders, identical to Edward. But it takes a second, and she sees the differences.

A brother?

He walks down the road far away and disappears inside a diner.

"Hungry?" Jen offers. Yes. This is the most action they've had since this morning. They park and nervously head into the diner, eyes wide and trying to seem casual.

Elliot is not being quiet. They sit in a booth, and he's making all the noises that make Bella cringe.

The Edward look-alike sits at the bar hunched over his coffee; short beard, mustache, rough around the edges. When Elliot wails, he turns his head a bit. Bella's spine goes cold.

"Bathroom. Go. You can take a peek at his face coming back," Jen offers. Great idea. Bella goes to the bathroom to breastfeed. Elliot falls asleep in no time. His little pout cherry-red like his father as he sleeps, spent. Bella sighs, relieved.

"No time for shenanigans, all right? Mommy's gotta stalk," she whispers to him. She rushes out, and with all the courage she can muster, eyes peeled, she looks up. The stranger's eyes seem to find hers immediately.

Bella blinks away.

 _Shit._

"Did you see him?" Jen asks desperately.

"Looked right at me. Urgh." Bella settles in the booth, then Elliot in his car seat.

"And? Any similarities?"

"He's younger than he seems. Same eyes. Definitely, his brother," Bella says. Jen nods, looking over.

"While you were gone, the waitress talked to him. She called him Emmett." Bella peeks at said waitress with 'Rose' pinned to her apron. She warmly smiles at him. Emmett stays blank.

"Like brother, like … brother," Bella murmurs.

Jen snorts, seeing the obviousness in the exchange, or lack thereof on his part. Rose is sweetened by his presence. Him? No signs of life. He pushes his coffee mug away an inch, and that is enough for her to know he needs a refill. She rushes over.

"Well, he's a jerk," Jen says. It comes off a bit too loud. Bella hushes her.

"Jesus, you're worse than Elliot."

Rose comes by, making them both shut their trap. The woman, in her late forties, smiles down at them.

"Adorable. Just gorgeous little fellow," she says about Elliot. "What's his name?"

Bella stammers, looking over to the bar. "Uh, Elliot."

"Well, you girls must be from out of town. I know everyone around here, and this is the first time I've seen you. I'd remember that angel face." Her crow's feet line her bright eyes as she smiles down at the sleeping baby.

"Yeah … uh—"

"We're looking for relatives," Jen says. Bella's stomach drops. "Haven't spotted them yet. The baby was hungry, we stopped in."

Rose coos and awes.

"Say," Jen continues. "We noticed the man up there was rude. You all right?" Bella kicks her under the table.

Rose is taken. "Oh, no … I mean." She laughs. "Yes. Mr. Cullen is really a charmer if you get to know him. He's a good man."

Mr. Cullen. _Cullen_.

Jen nods. "So, I assume he's a regular. You know him?"

"I know his entire family. Very good, quiet family. They've been here for generations. Right up the road where the lilacs are. His parents are old but still up there, barely see them nowadays. So is his sister. Poor thing so sick, and that one son who never comes to visit. All the rest of the brothers come and go, but it's a shame. His mother always hoping he'll come back after so many years and all. Rumors are he's not alive anymore." She lifts her notepad. "Anyway," she says, chuckling. "They say I talk ears off, so stop me if you're famished. What are we having today, ladies?"

Jen smirks. "I think we've got it all."

Bella is speechless. Jen managed to get all that information. They order quick meals and sit there quietly, staring at nothing in particular.

"How the hell did you manage that?" Bella asks. Jen shrugs.

"I research. I do it for work every day. We have to interview people. She looked like the type who would spill. Perfect target." Bella stares skeptically. "I'll give her a hefty tip. It'll be fine."

They eat as quickly as they can before the baby wakes and wails at them again. Bella notices the disrupted freedom she used to have is now timed by a small one. This time, she knows it's more; a potential relative to Elliot is only a few feet away.

What would she say when she finally finds the courage to walk up to him or the house?

 _Your son and brother, the one you haven't seen in years, is alive, or maybe he's alive. I'm not actually sure. But, I'm sure this is his son he doesn't know about._

She hands Elliot over.

Not likely viable.

Either way, their nephew and grandson wakes, and wails at last. Bella drops her fork, picks him up and over her shoulder to burp him.

Jen goes a bit pale as she looks over Bella's shoulder toward the bar. "Well, he's looking right at him," she says about Elliot. "Fuuuuck."

"Let's go. I can't do this now. Maybe never," Bella says. They pile him into the car seat and juggle all the baggage that comes with him.

The door chimes as they make an exit. Rose waving and saying her farewell and good luck behind them. _Loudly._

They rush up the road to the car left by the house, no other parking available, and go about the many tasks of clicking Elliot in, who begins to keen once again.

Fuck. Here we go. Not a fan of this entrapment.

"Leave it. Just drive. We gotta get out of here," Bella says in a rush to Jen from the back seat.

Then they both join Elliot with a scream of fright.

Their lungs going … their mouths gaping. Eyes screwed up and shut after seeing a shadow. The tall shadow of a man by Bella's window.

He tapped the window with a knuckle.

Bella pants a little, trying to calm. Her hand over her heart. She looks out, and Emmett Cullen is standing there bent slightly at the waist to look inside.

He makes a gesture. It's not like Bella feels she has a choice. Or does she? She doesn't know. She looks to Jen. Jen looks back. Then shrugs.

Bella hits the automatic button. The window whirs. Slowly, it goes down.

Emmett leans in. The first thing he lays eyes on is Elliot, who is looking bright-eyed and quiet at the stranger—his uncle.

Emmett's eyes cut to Bella. "How do you know us?" he asks. Skeptical. A tinge of anger. Overprotector. No messing around in his blunt book. He shoots a single nod when he asks. His bright, ocean blue eyes so familiar. His overworked, sunburnt skin aging him more than he is. A tooth just askew slightly on his bottom grill.

Bella is frozen. Lips tightly shut. Eyes just as wide as her son beside her.

"Get out of the car," he orders. He jerks an arm with a slight, stiff, invite. It softens the cop-like ask.

Bella begins to tremble, feeling like she really is going to get the Miranda Rights recited. A right to remain silent. Innocent until proven guilty.

Well, she already is. About everything.

…


	52. Chapter 52 - All the Woman Says

**A/N: Edward's sister has now been changed to 'Jane'. There is now ONE Alice in this story, and that's the roommate with the Berkin. I've been writing this for years, it was an oops as it was overlooked. Happens. Let's move on! This one's for all those pushy ladies out there on my FB. You know who you are. lol xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 52 - All the Woman Says**

 _BPOV continues..._

Bella steps out of the car, trembling. She fidgets. Jen stays in her spot in the car. Bella wishes she didn't. Coward.

"Uhh…"

"You know us …?" He asks.

"Yes … No. I mean, no. Sort of?"

"Which one?" He scrunches his eyes. He looks toward the car. "Bring the kid," he says, and then he walks away toward the gate between the lilacs.

Bella stammers and shuffles her feet where she stands. She reaches the door and suddenly doesn't know how it functions. Jen pops the lock, and Bella manages to open it.

"Yes, you're coming," Bella says as she bends into the car, her trembling hands reaching for Elliot's car seat.

Jen is already shaking her head vigorously.

"You and your big mouth telling people our business? You're coming," Bella says through her teeth.

Jen's shoulders visibly drop. She unbuckles her seatbelt.

They linger at the sidewalk, take a few hesitant steps to peek over at the open gate. Emmett steps out, making them jump slightly as he waves them in.

"Come. I ain't got all day," he mumbles.

They're in the yard now and looking around. So many pieces of equipment and used parts spilling into the yard to the right. Wooden, worn doors are open to reveal a garage beyond it, more things piled up and old cars. The rest of the yard is fantasy-like. If you turn your back to the mess, you can be submerged under a tree that droops leaves low. Bushes carved and trimmed nicely dollop the area with flowers in yellows and pinks and green. Lilacs surrounding the fences. It's enchanting.

Whitewashed steps lead up to a vast porch that wraps around to the left of the house. Bella has always loved wraparounds. She and Jen gawk a little.

Emmett is already pushing through the front door. He calls out through the house. "Ma!"

And Bella freezes as she looks at Jen.

They can't escape this now.

Pale, Bella stands under the porch with a curious Elliot whose eyes roam around. He's quiet as a mouse.

Suddenly, a girl pokes her head out the screen door in the oddest way, startling the girls. Bella covers her lips to keep from yelping.

The girl with wide, curious eyes that roam around too. A pin in her dark hair to keep it up by her ear. She steps out over the threshold in a fine, print flower dress. Black and white penny loafers on her feet. She fidgets exaggeratingly. Her hand twisting her index as she rocks her whole body slightly to the beat of no music. Maybe the breeze.

When the girls look closely, they realize she's not that young, after all. She's matured. No soft cheeks, but sharp shaped ones a woman would carry, perfect structure you'd find in magazines piled with layers of contour and makeup. But her skin is slightly blemished and dry. Sunken. Speckled. Thin. Needing sun to kiss and rejuvenate. She's in her late twenties.

"A baby?" She asks. Red frames her sharp, blue ocean eyes. She looks for the infant. She charges toward him on wobbling legs, but stops dead cold before she gets to him. Bella does an automatic flinch, where she stands in front of Elliot, pulling him behind her nervously.

"Oh," the strange woman says joyfully. Her hands knuckle white at her chest. "A baby!" She folds herself in a crouching ball to see him better. No sense of shame or sense at her unusual behavior. Her fingertips at her lips in awe. Elliot and her eyes locked in.

"Jane!" Emmett shouts. "Get in the house," he orders from inside. Jane jumps in place and scurries quickly at her brother's command.

Bella knows how she feels. He's intimidating.

Jane shyly hovers behind the screen door regardless. She widens the door and softly whispers, "You can come in, you know. He's a mean old man, but he's nice sometimes. He brings me candy on Sundays," she assures, nodding.

Bella and Jen exchange looks. Jen holding a soft smile for Jane. It's obvious. It's the demeanor one holds when there's a harmless soul with a disability in their presence. You exude calm and kindness.

"Thanks, Jane. That's nice of him." Jen takes a step into the house. Bella follows. The inside dark in contrast. Clean. Old worn furniture but everything neat and orderly. Walls crisp with new paint, but one wall. Painted in large flowers. Monet-esque. Detailed with loose strokes.

Jane spreads her arms wide at the wall. Her back to it. She smiles. "This is my wall," she proudly says. Jen and Bella are genuinely impressed.

"It's beautiful," Bella says. "Kind of amazing," she says through her teeth so that only Jen can hear. Jen is too busy gawking at it from ceiling to floor in awe. "They're all genius," Bella adds behind her hand.

"Holy shit," Jen whispers. Her eyes cut to Elliot in thought without a word.

Bella scoffs, in tune. "Right. He still has my genes mixed in." Jen pushes a laugh through her nose at the reality check.

Jane lights up and suddenly looks excited. "Momma, Momma, a baby! Look."

Bella and Jen turn to look behind them.

Sure enough, an older woman pushes through a door with soft eyes. Her hair pinned neatly at her nape, some strays. An apron around her waist. Her blouse so much from another era, yet it's pristine and silk. Delicate buttons at the elbows in powder blue and yellow florals all over. Her hair, Bella sighs, is the same as her son's, but speckled with silver in places. Her tired eyes lined, and lips tinted. She's as beautiful as Jane's painting, aged. But Bella notices; eyes as sad and worried as a mother would be, years of practice, reasons, secrets. She folds her hands at her front, her slim silver watch at her wrist.

"I see, Jane. The muffins are about ready, go check them," she says without looking away. Her eyes set on the young women standing in her foyer.

Jane visibly looks disappointed. She slouches comically and drags her feet through the door her mother came through.

Emmett watches from the threshold, leaning against it. He too, can't take his eyes away.

Bella can't speak. Not a word through her lips.

This was a mistake. This is too sensitive. This will tear them all apart. Why did she come? Her hands haven't stopped trembling. "I … uh..." she says. She feels her eyes burn.

"Let me see him," is all the woman says. Her tone hopeful, desperate, careful.

Bella glances at Elliot. She's taken.

 _Oh_.

She slowly turns the seat to face her.

And there, those eyes that carry the weight of the world— of sadness and worry—they brighten. They morph to relief.

Bella thinks twice. She moves to unstrap him. Jen helps. They work together through this awkward silence. Bella holds him close when she straightens. Elliot wide awake and taking in his surroundings.

"I just…" Bella begins to speak. But stops.

The old woman is crying. Her silent tears spill. A few fingers dabs at her mouth as she crosses her chest with her arms. She walks away. Not a word as she trails past Bella and Jen and into the living room.

Bella is confused. Emmett lifts a hand and simply says, "You can follow." So they hesitantly do.

The space is set like it were still the fifties, and the mid-century modern furniture was built today. Dusted, neat, all in olive green fabrics over wood. The lady shuffles through a shelf, she finds a large book and opens it. The sound of glue unsticking takes up the silence.

Jen is freaking out inside, thinking about all the ways they could run. She'd definitely grab Elliot first. She grips Bella's arm to ready herself. They seem to hold on to one another, encompassing the boy just enough with shoulders to protect him.

The woman softly sniffles where she stands, her back to them. She finally turns, holding a photo. She pauses, then lets it go.

Bella takes it when it's offered.

The baby in the photo is the spitting image of Elliot. She looks down at it with Jen at her shoulder. They're speechless.

Bella's eyes water, the photo blurring up. She turns it to the back, and in a script of blue ink is written, _Edward Anthony Cullen._

"Where is he?"

That is all the woman says.

….


	53. Chapter 53 - He Can't Fight It

**A/N: *sunshine emoji***

* * *

 **Chapter 53 - He Can't Fight It**

 _EPOV continues..._

A poke. A nudge. If this is how death feels, then it hurts, it stings.

That poke that nudge again.

"Hey," someone says. In dreams it is far. When you're empty inside, and no energy to burn in your stomach, it's but a faint call through your ears.

Edward flinches. The poke right at his rib. He cracks an eye open. A sliver of light pours in.

"You dead?" That voice again.

With a head like lead, chapped lips, Edward moves, but slightly. He closes his eye.

The old man sees. He's been watching this intruder for ten minutes now. He wondered ten minutes ago how he intruded. The barn door locked, the chain in place. It gave him a scare. He unlocked it himself to feed the goats. Early in the morning, he's doing his chores. Every day it's routine, nothing out of the ordinary. This farm has been here for generations. Lavender fields through hills and acres.

He looks down at this man. His curled body inside an oversized tweed coat. The elbows in patches. A good coat. Ragged and worn, but not warm enough for this weather. His pants and boots like those of hikers. Hair outgrown, head, and face. The old man looks closely. Under the thick beard, this man is young. Palm open by his face, fingernails black with filth.

He pokes with the handle of the rake again.

"Wake up," he orders.

The young man stirs but has no strength to move. When his eyes fully open, they are bright and blue, staring up at an old man in overalls and a wrinkled, angry face.

Edward jumps in his skin, caught. He scurries back on his heels, banging on things. The light of morning hits his squinted eyes. He lifts the palm up to shield the bright sun.

He's skin and bones.

The old man's shoulders release tension. Just the sight floods him with empathy.

"How'd you get in here?" he asks.

The young man blankly looks at the ground, no expression, no answer.

Where is _here_?

How did he get here? Edward asks himself, a foggy brain. He tries to look around, stiff neck. Goats cry out at seeing their master, all lining up along the fence, waiting for their breakfast. He smells farm shit and feels hay under him. Warm hay. The hay that felt like a cloud under him when he crawled in through a crack far down behind the barn last night.

The old man huffs. He walks in and begins his work, ignoring the intruder. Edward sits and watches. His eyes blink. Then slowly, with exhaustion taking over his every bone, he tries with all his might to stay upright, watching the goats thump around, munch on their food, and bleat loud for more.

"There's a hose out by the barn for drinking. Come to the house when you can manage to stand," the old man says before he walks out, leaving the barn door open. When he does go, everything for Edward seems to fade, hunched against the barn wall, his head fallen to his shoulder, nodding off.

He can't fight it. He can't fight anything these days.

….


	54. Chapter 54 - Help He Can Get

**Chapter 54 - Help He Can Get**

 _EPOV continues..._

It was miles and miles of hiking. He didn't know where he stood if anyone asked.

He freed himself from those thieves, that hospital. He ran into his beloved woods, his sanctuary, and he lost them. No fingerprints taken, still a no one. He was relieved.

How did the cops not know? A miracle. He was plucked from the side of a freeway, unconscious. He could have come from anywhere. But it seems they didn't associate him with the speeding van that charged past the border, three men in it still swimming in stolen items from houses all around the area.

Edward was taken into the hospital like a homeless man, beaten up, out of luck, lying on the side of the road. It happens many times. Patrol is used to the pickups of drunken men or dosed up punks with unlucky nights.

Someone, something, was definitely looking out for Edward that night.

Well, he thinks the luck ran out months ago. He's homeless, aimless, and not as efficient as he thought he'd be. These were not his plans. Wherever he's been, it's been struggle after struggle. No ending point or safe spot to camp. Everywhere has felt wrong. He kept moving … to nowhere.

To here.

Edward can barely lift his head. The barn wall his rigid pillow. The sounds of those goats and other animals moving about slowly, and noisily, wake him.

He staggers to his feet and walks. This is all he's got: a pair of feet and a will to get lost.

He finds the open barn door and that hose. Edward runs, then he walks, then he crawls, whichever way to get to it. Two, three, four giant gulps of ice cold water down his throat, to his empty stomach.

He looks around, water trickling down inside his shirt, sopping wet. The warm lights brighten a cottage house just beyond. The porch light lit, waiting for him, he guesses. The old man's words loop through his mind. There's nothing to lose. A lot of his rules have been broken thus far. His kingdom no more.

Right now, he needs food. He's done terrible things to get some. His brain clears up, and he remembers. He ended up once in a cave. He thought he'd found it; a new home. But it was too claustrophobic, and he couldn't see the stars. There were cabins, but too far. Houses, but too busy. Animals, but no way to hunt them. After two weeks, he left.

He found a lake a week later. A good one. Nice trees. Great moonlight every night. But the trails were populated. No nooks. No food. No houses close by to help him.

He broke into a small shed there. Old. The wooden walls almost falling apart. A cot miraculously hung from the piles of things in the back. He sat on it, having a feast he found in a family lake park. Summer in full swing, picnic tables loaded with things. That was easy. He didn't have to disarm a box to grab a helping. The shed suited him well for weeks. But it just wasn't right. The fear of being caught was greater than the calm.

He had to leave.

Edward has walked so much, his boots tore up his feet. The small pools of blood when he untied them was the hardest part. The broken sole, like his broken soul. He feared he'd never find peace.

Snow fell. He was desperate.

A ferry waited by a bay days later. He didn't know where he was, but he stumbled onto a body of water. He watched from far away for a day. Passengers hopped in. Tickets in hand, people were let on to go … somewhere. Plates, silverware, napkins, and glasses filled to the brim with clear water were set up on tables inside. Crates of food were taken in through a dock area. He saw how that ferry functioned, how workers moved about. He could easily sneak in through the back and slide in between storage. Storage full of food.

The desperation was heavy in him. The plan was sloppy, but it was all he had. And the will.

The will.

He broke into those crates once the ferry's doors closed and moved. Motors rowing and vibrating beneath his feet. When they opened back up, he was across the bay.

Well, here.

But where _is_ here?

He stands, rubs the dirt off his hands and coat; the one he grabbed from the last house he broke into. He grabs the duffle bag he got from there, too, seeing as all his stuff was gone, left behind in that van. Nothing in this bag but a few pieces of clothing, a small sleeping bag, and an empty tin water bottle.

The stoop to the cottage house is wooden and worn. He doesn't go further. All he does is sit there and wait. He contemplates leaving, to keep moving. Woods all around, beyond where the barn is. He could go, he could keep walking and out further.

The door swings open. That old man stares down at Edward. Edward stands after a glimpse over his shoulder.

The man waves a hand and walks inside. Edward has to follow now. And when he does, a quaint kitchen is inside. The table covered in a faded red cloth. The stove vintage, the walls adorned with paper, and some parts not. The old man gestures toward a chair, but Edward just stands, the screen door still at his back.

The man sets down a glass bottle of goat milk and a small glass by a full plate already served.

Edward's stomach grumbles.

"You came from the ferry, didn't you?" he asks. Edward doesn't answer, nor do his eyes find the other pair across the room. "Are you a mute?" The old man shuffles his feet uncomfortably. "Autistic? Probably the latter," he mumbles that part.

He watches Edward for a while caving into himself. Silence taking up the room.

"Well, you ain't taking room and board without me giving it. And you sure as shit, ain't taking food unless I'm offering it. In this farm, people work for their share." He waves a hand and adjusts his suspenders. The baldness at his receding lines have freckles. His nose, wide. A tooth is golden, where the front one should be. "It's too early. I don't know why they sent you so soon … and in this _state_." He refers to Edward's attire. "But we'll have to do, won't we?"

Edward's mouth is watering. His eyes stuck to that plate, nothing else.

"It's twelve hourly for weeding and harvesting. That includes running the machines for processing. While the snow is still on the ground, you can help with the animals, but I'm not paying you for that. I don't cover room and board either. You can go down to the inn. All the guys do for the season."

Edward's brain gets working. He looks up, confused. _A job?_

"I'll tell you one thing; I don't do drunks. One sign of alcohol in my property, you're out. Now, eat before you drop. I'll show you where the inn is, that's where you'll sleep. It ain't gonna be in my damn barn no more." He mumbles as he files out the kitchen.

Halfway through the beef stew, stuffing that in by the spoonfuls, Edward stops to contemplate this. His eyes over his shoulder toward the screen door. Or maybe he should use his vocal cords and say the honest truth; he's not who the old man thinks he is.

But he doesn't move. The only thing that does move is that spoon over the hot, thick sauce coating the potato cubes, carrots, and tender beef gathered in his plate.

He just can't fight it anymore. He needs all the help he can get.

And this old man is a terribly fine cook.

….


	55. Chapter 55 - One Enduring Element

**Chapter 55 - One Enduring Element**

 _BPOV continues …._

Bella sniffs back tears. Her throat bobbing. This is a tragedy. This is awful.

She is trying so hard to hold back the sobs. She shakes her head instead. "I don't know," is what she answers to Edward's mother. "I don't know where he is."

"You don't know?" Emmett asks perplexed, harshly, from the entrance to the living room. "How do you not know?"

Jen speaks up. "I'm sorry. Mrs. Cullen?" She asks for confirmation.

"Elizabeth. Please." She offers.

"We don't know where he is because he left. He ran away. And it appears that's historically a pattern." She looks over at Emmett. "We don't know because we're not his keepers." She lifts a brow.

Bella shakes her head. She interrupts. "He left before he was born. He left before I could tell him," she says. She looks at Elizabeth. "I'm sorry. I just wanted …"

Elizabeth nods.

"So, where has he been? Could you at least tell us that?"

Elizabeth glances back. "Emmett, please." He sighs loudly but grows quiet. "Come," she says, walking to the couch, inviting them to sit, then points back at him. "Go get them something hot to drink."

He leaves after a pause. The room deflates from tension. Bella sniffs at her tears, the photo still clutched in her hand.

"I assure you, I don't want anything. I just wanted to let you know, let anyone know. I wanted … to say that … he's still alive. He lived in the woods, literally twenty minutes from here. He said he lived there for almost ten years. I found him, and I got to know him." She lets out a chuckle, thinking. "Probably forced. He was … very reserved."

Elizabeth nods with lost eyes, aimed at a wall. "He always was. He was precious to my heart. Took after my father. Quiet. Thoughtful. But always wanted to be alone. I had to force Edward to speak to me at times, pry him open. I'd wait. Long hours sitting in the kitchen while I moved around it. I wouldn't let him leave until he did. Any troubles he had were like pulling up wine stains to get him to speak."

Bella smiles sadly. She'd like to know more. Every detail.

"In the woods?" She reiterates after a moment, like she's trying to absorb. A few of her fingers lift and curl around her other hand at her lap. "I always knew he'd do something out of the ordinary."

Jane brings a tray smiling big. Emmett leans at the threshold again.

"You heard that Emmett? Living in the woods that boy. Alone, all this time." She says as she pours tea in delicate teacups.

Emmett thinks quietly as he sips on his own bulky mug.

"Edward?" Jane lights up if more were possible. "He's in the woods? Where? Can I go see him? Is he coming to visit? Oh, I miss him. He used to buy me colors," she says, pointing toward the mural. I promised him to paint the flowers so nice."

Elizabeth smiles at her, but with sadness in her eyes. "Someday, Jane." She holds her arm tenderly. "You know what I'm in the mood for?" she continues. "Those cookies. The ones you made that time? You'd make Momma so happy. Go on." She nudges Jane to get her to leave the room. Jane happily obliges, anything to make Momma happy.

Jen watches with a heavy heart as Jane walks out. Emmett steps out of the way for her to pass, his hand briefly patting her back with the same tenderness his mother showed. Jen guesses he has a heart after all.

"Wonder what he did with the car. You think he ditched it there?" he asks Elizabeth. She frowns slightly around her teacup like she couldn't imagine the circumstance. "That bastard. Took years to shave off the bills for that, no car to show for it. I'll shave off his scrawny ass if I ever see him."

"You won't," she says, after swallowing the warm sip. "You'll thank heavens he came back with tears in your eyes." He scoffs.

"Now," Elizabeth says with a different sort of smile. "While I hold my grandson, you tell me all about how you got into Edward's stubborn heart, and every detail on how this one was born." She looks at a calm Elliot wrapped up on Mom's lap, curled up to her chest. Big eyes like her long lost son. She couldn't take her eyes away the entire time she talked. Her hands at her lap clutched, or they'd reach out. Well, she can't hold back anymore.

Jen looks at Bella, Bella looks at Jen. And that story about his birth is a long story. Jen bites her tongue to not laugh.

"May I?" Elizabeth asks, hopefully. Bella passes the bundle over with a relieved heart. This turned out far better than she ever thought.

Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes and a soft kiss to his cheek, says, "Like holding him all over again." The space between his brows scrunched a bit as he stares and stares. She laughs. Emmett comes closer behind her chair to watch him, too. "And his temperament." Emmett agrees with a slight smirk before it disappears again. Him not being a kid type of person, but he knew, from the moment he laid eyes on him at the diner, the boy was blood. Edward has the book smarts, but Emmett has the instincts.

Bella goes on to visit every Sunday when time allows, and on Elizabeth and Jane's insistence. Dinners. Warm kitchen visits. Parties and birthdays. She grows to love this family just as closely as her own. Elliot gets to nap in his father's old bedroom, meet all his uncles, and share hours of playpen time and toys with far too many cousins to count.

There's just one enduring element missing.

 _… Last of BPOV._


	56. Chapter 56 - Smelling Like Lavender

**A/N: One of my favs. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 56 - Smelling Like Lavender**

At times, many times, dreams come. Scrambled, jumbled, and frustrating. He's running, he's driving a speeding van, he's pulling the trigger of that gun himself. But once in a while, he dreams of a child's soft cheek, ice blue eyes staring right at him. In those dreams, he wakes with the whisper in his ear to live, to push, to keep moving. His heart beats steadily. Just as the child is new, born, so is he when he wakes. Tissues and cells rejuvenate. He grows stronger.

Edward fills out his shirts now. New shirts he bought with money, from his own pay. That first night, the old man pointed him toward the inn. The middle-aged woman at reception just looked up through the window, but Edward never went in. At least not that night. He walked to the woods out back and slept against a tree. The next morning, he sat on the stoop again, hoping whatever tasks the old man would give him, meant a meal for the day.

He shook off his coat and got to work. He's been working ever since.

It's been over a year.

His eyes look up from under the brim of a hat. He sees the horizon, quiet. No sounds but for the breeze sweeping the fields and animals calling from their bins. His hands working a rag to put around his neck. The heat is picking up. The lavender bushes have already been harvested. He did all that work with other men who came on the ferry. A few just nodded at him, no introduction. Others were just as quiet as him. He trembled at first with the anxiety of company. He was working alone for a month. The old man barely present, only giving him orders. He'd pick up quickly and was up before anyone else. No one in sight but for pigs, cows, and chickens. Those goats sniff at his thighs. He's their master now.

He turns the machinery back on after a break. It sails between bushes of lavender to prep them for the next snipping. There's another machine for that. He tinkers. He opens their lids and looks at the motors. He's interested. He's calm.

He's found some peace.

It's hard labor, but he can get lost in his mind.

When men came, new help, he wanted to leave. He wanted to move on. He tried to find malice in their eyes, horrible intentions. This wasn't going to work. But keeping mute has its advantages. No one talks to him. He told himself not everyone in this world is out to do harm.

So, he let go of the tension around his shoulders some. Even though it still looms at times.

Every morning he wakes and wonders if today will be the day he leaves. But then a filling breakfast comes, lunch, then dinner, and he's too tired to think about anything but sleep.

He slowly walks to the library after he's done with the field. He needs a new book for the night. He isn't stealing anymore; he borrows them. He's proud of that. Even though it takes all his nerve and courage to be around people. It's nearly numbing to visit the town at the old man's insistence to pick up things; cashiers with wide smiles and questions he never answers. He'd rush out at first. Where he bought a shirt, pants, some socks, new boots, there was also a library. His feet practically marched that way without thought.

It's not a bad life. If he knew there was ease like this when he was twenty and out of college, he would've come here first.

And where _is_ here? He figured it out himself one day while wandering.

The storefronts in that very deserted, ghost-like town he found, displayed large, typographic letters: _Yarmouth, Nova Scotia._

He hummed to himself, almost framing his jaw with forefinger and thumb with the gesture. A bubble popping up over his head like in comic books. How in Christ did he get here?

But moments like these, when he looks over the field's horizon and the sun setting, his hands and clothes smelling like lavender—over his pillow and even his sheets putting him fast to sleep—he feels like it was meant to be.

These days, he barely lets anything occupy his clear mind. Not until he feels it. Just now. A creeping feeling.

On his way to the library, he spots a woman far away. It makes him stop. She looks hauntingly and unnervingly familiar. The Lady of the Woods is a glimpse, a ghost. He crosses the road to get a better look with no such luck. Just like that, she's gone.

Every muscle in his body loses strength.

...


	57. Chapter 57 - He Has An Answer

**A/N: The next will come quick.**

* * *

 **Chapter 57 - He Has an Answer**

Edward puts away the tractor when the old man hollers. _'Kid'_ is how he calls him.

He's used to the old man now; short stature in an angry cloud. He has forced himself into Edward's orbit. He orders him around, and Edward is forced to interact, to watch him do things matter of fact. No thought or hesitation to be around other humans, to exist, just to get work done.

Edward goes to him.

The old man—'Boss' as everyone calls him—is acting oddly this time, hesitant.

"Look, I know who you are," he starts, no beating around the bush when they meet in the kitchen.

Edward's stomach drops.

"I've known all along. But I've kept giving you cash to accommodate you. No papers in file. I figured you were homeless. I took you in not even knowing your name, not like other men coming in here."

Edward stuffs his hands in his pockets. Plans of leaving so soon take up his mind instantly.

"You're good. You give me no trouble. I made the right choice with you. A few seasons have passed, and I kept my mouth shut. I'm giving you the choice to stay or leave. Work will get light here, no pay."

Edward shuts down again, thinking money was never what he needed. He looks like he did that first night the Boss found him, standing by the screen door motionless. A shell of a man, that's what the old man thought.

"Go on. Think about it. Give me an answer by the end of the week."

Edward leaves the kitchen, softly closing the screen door behind him. A mountain of hard questions closing in on him. He restlessly walks around the field through bedtime. Then past midnight. Dawn comes sneaking in; still he sits by some trees wide awake.

Everything in him tells him to stay—his gut again, speaking to him. But his heart tells him time is up. He must move on, and he wants to. The rules in his kingdom have been abandoned. He yearns to find isolation. But how? The one thing he needs has been a nightmare to find; food.

Here, it's been easy.

He stands. He walks back to his room at the inn like a zombie. The wind harsh and pulling at his clothes. Rain bats at his cheeks. He bypasses the goats, and the cows, and even the empty receptionist area. New folks rarely come in and out, he hardly runs into any. He wonders how this place keeps running. For a while now, he's been the only one occupying a room. In part, he has been isolated.

He has an answer for the Boss. He thinks he does.

The moment he climbs the creaky steps, up to the second floor, he hears movement. Someone else is taking the last few steps at the top of the flight of stairs. By the time he gets there and turns toward his bedroom door with the key, a warm body is at their door down the hall. He glances over his shoulder to look.

That woman.

That Lady of the Woods looks back at the threshold of her open, lacquered door. She glances at him with kind eyes, like one does to a stranger.

She grins.

Edward slams his door shut behind him. His heart speeding like the tractor motors he tinkers with all day.

In no time, his duffle bag is on his bed, and so are all his things stuffed inside.

He has an answer—but a different one.

….


	58. Chapter 58 - Joyous Mess

**Chapter 58 - Joyous Mess**

 _Weeks later..._

Edward looks over his shoulder. Still, he does.

That night at the inn, that woman, he tells himself it was just a coincidence. He knows it. Not a horrible trick being played on him, nor his delusions.

But that was the biggest sign if he ever had one. He left the farm, never looking back.

It's different now. The stress of finding and keeping food is less. This time, he rolls into small town after small town. He fills up a new backpack he finds in a thrift shop—wads of bills from his pay in a plastic bag. He doesn't know what else to do with all the money he got from the farm, but it pays for food along the way. Money makes for less stress. He hates to admit, currency equals ease of life, something he's learned to accept the hard way. The Boss proved that hard work allows for living quietly.

He now hikes, but with everything he needs on his back. He took that ferry back to Maine with a ticket this time. He rode at the very top with the wind at his back. If he could live in the ocean, he would. Grow gills and exist peacefully with creatures.

He's a creature. But when he walks by strangers on trails, they don't see how he's made up inside. A nod from people passing by, a curious smile or wave from children if they tag along, that's what he gets.

These days he takes in the atmosphere; he enjoys his surroundings. The constant frantic search for his next meal isn't a worry. When he walks, he's watching the leaves sway in trees. He's watching the birds fly from branch to branch quietly. Weeks after leaving the farm, he's present … in the moment. He camps out in new places and falls fast asleep, only to wake with new strengths.

He wonders how long he'll feel this way. He tries not to think of it, nor that plastic bag with cash running low. He opens his tin water bottle, and that's also low. His stomach knots. Nowhere to get water. It takes a long time for him to cave in.

When he's broken into a cabin, he's feeling all sorts of things. Nerves. His stomach hurts. This feels wrong. He fills his bottle with tap water from the sink. Right by it is a basket of fruit. His hands shake. This is the first time in almost two years he helps himself from someone else's house that isn't Boss's.

He leaves the fruit untouched and moves on. Not unless his life is wasting away will he succumb to taking again.

He thinks about this as he turns a bend. A child. His high-pitched, small, yet big voice echoes through the trees. Edward puts on his shield, the one he wears when people are around. He braces himself. But as he gets close, he sees the boy is young. Too young. Young enough where he shouldn't be alone. His clothes say much; a sweater and tiny boots under soft pants with superhero prints on them. The knees are filthy, so are his hands. A branch in a fist pokes at worms dug up by roots of a tree.

Edward slows. He looks around. No one else, but this boy engrossed in what he's doing.

"Hello," he says. Edward turns to him a bit taken. He wasn't sure he was visible where he stood. He doesn't answer, but the boy does wave. After a moment, he turns back to his messy task.

"I have worm'th," he says. Edward blinks, frozen where he stands. "I have more at home," he adds, as the stick pokes, pokes, pokes. "They don't have eyes … or feet. But if they get hurt, they grow a tail. I've done it to see, but only one time." He says in clear words like it's a bad thing, and he promises he won't do it again.

Edward barely nods. He grips his backpack at his shoulders, wanting to keep walking but torn now that he's in this predicament.

A child alone.

The short human looks up again, bright blue eyes toward his own. Then they widen.

"A dee-oh!" he shouts and points over Edward's shoulder. They look toward the deep, dense woods, and sure enough, a deer stands still. Ears perked. But the antlers are large. Edward instantly knows. He quickly sifts through his knowledge of what season it is, and the circumstance, but mostly the consequence.

Mating season.

His stomach drops to his toes when this boy does the unthinkable and makes a run toward it.

Short, agile legs get far if they move fast enough. In a beat of a second, Edward is running after him. His voice stuck to the back of his throat. So is his terror; hands reaching out to grab that small sweater, the hat attached, whichever.

A finger grazes it. A thumb. Legs pumping, heart hammering, Edward snatches him up.

The boy is airborne with the yank. The deer is stock still, far, but maybe not far enough. Edward sighs heavily with relief. He pins the toddler against his chest and walks them both back to the trail where this all began.

Edward is shaken. The boy? A giggling, joyous mess.

Someone calls from far away. Frantically. A woman.

Her hair long and dark in a braid, her skin golden. She's jogging from here to there, her head whipping from left to right. Edward can guess who she's looking for.

The boy lifts his arms, still in Edward's grasp, and squeals happily. She's found him. He slithers out of his grasp and runs again. This time, the correct way. It takes a second for her to spot him, he's so small.

Edward takes heavy breaths, wipes the sweat off his brow, and steps slightly out of view. He waits for this to blow over. Soon enough, he'll be back on track and on his way.

But a feeling, this odd one in his middle, stays with him for days.

….


	59. Chapter 59 - The Worm Hunter

**A/N: *heart emoji***

* * *

 **Chapter 59 - The Worm Hunter**

He walks around it. It's his second time. Dread in the pit of his stomach. Emptiness in the pit of his water bottle. A window to a cabin is splayed open.

Just one short visit to the kitchen sink, and he'll be out in no time. There is no car in the pathway. No hose attached to a faucet outside of the cabin. It's quiet. No movement on an early morning.

He conjures up the bit of courage he files away just for this. He drops the backpack by a tree and pushes the tin bottle into the waistband of his pants against his back. It only takes little effort. Practically none at all.

Inside, he pulls a leg in and then the other. A bench under the window has a cushion to break the landing. Perfect. He looks around. Pale green walls and a bed. Pillows piled up, a trunk at the end. But the wall adjacent to it is impressive. Books and trinkets fill every nook and crevice of shelves.

His hands do that thing where he automatically wants to touch, but he thinks again. He pushes them into his pockets.

Right. Water.

In and out and on his way. He's climbed in at the back of the house, so he nervously leaves the room and down a dark hallway. The kitchen is large and bright, double doors slightly open to the near woods, just at the edge of the yard. As he fills the bottle, he looks around him. Partly to keep watch as he does, but mostly to absorb the details.

Open doors like that can't be a good sign. He's getting sloppy. His stakeout isn't as thorough as it used to be.

Tired. Older. Out of practice. Walking for days has kept him from patience. Get in, get out, it can't be that hard. This time, he's really done it. How could he not notice the open doors earlier?

The bottle fills to the top and runs over his fingers. He wrings his hands, even grabs a dishrag to clean up all the droplets and the mess he keeps making of this.

Done.

Swift, silent strides, he's back in the room. Not out the window like he should, but frozen, staring up at the spines of books. Edward is practically salivating at the options.

It's been a long time since he's flipped pages. He took a couple of books from the farm, but you can only read them a number of times before they get tedious.

Again, hands shaking, chest aching. This time, he reaches. Just one. One, and not a single one more. He's softening up, slowly letting his guard down and accepting exceptions.

Euphoria when he lifts a thick book off the shelf. And right then, the feeling deflates and turns to horror. Not the genre, but the shock that makes your blood drain from your face.

The smallest gasp known to man, weakens this one's. Edward looks to the door, caught, book grasped in his hand.

That boy, the worm hunter. The chaser of dangerous deer through the woods. That boy stands there, startled.

He smiles and giggles. And then he runs out. "Mommy!"

Everything in Edward dies instantly. He drops the book, and he's after him.

Why is he after him?

Why isn't he climbing out the window where he came from? He doesn't know. But this insidious boy...

"Mommy, the man. The man!" he shouts down the hallway. He sprints through there and runs right into a robe around a slim figure. Edward peeks out the bedroom door and stiffens.

A crash of hearts keeps both humans still, the pair, who once met in the oddest of circumstances meet again. Years ago, a curious girl in search of a quiet hermit through dark woods. This time, it's no different. Like mother, like son; curious souls about everything peculiar. Edward is the peculiar subject, as they both watch him standing at the bedroom doorway, a stranger who's found his way back to someplace very, very familiar.

Bella's eyes grow wide, taking him in. The buttoned-up shirt tucked in neatly, groomed jaw, combed back hair, just like he always keeps up even if he hikes trails and sleeps out in the woods every night.

She'd hoped, she'd dreamed, she even cried many times over a day like this.

"Wook. The man in the trees!" the boy adds, looking up. His arms curled around her leg.

"I see, Elliot," Bella murmurs over him. And to think, she didn't believe him days ago when he came home musing over it. She shakingly rubs the hair on Elliot's head and says to him, "Go, get your truck by the couch." He does. She knows this will keep him occupied for enough time.

Edward and Bella are left alone. Her heart apatter in there, his is not any better, worse even. Considering how bad he is at looking into someone's eyes, he has perfected the intimacy in an instant. He takes in her face, her lips. Just as they used to be.

"So, I guess you've already met your son," she fires, loaded and ready.

She counted the many ways she would break it to him. But Bella swore to herself, lying in bed at night, tears pouring down her temples when no one was there to see them, that when the moment came when she'd see him again, she wouldn't hesitate. She never had the chance, she'll take any. She would tell him who Elliot is and who she really is, along with it.

She's the one who's been secretly waiting for him but hasn't admitted that to anyone. Who built a life and house in the woods on this campsite just to secure a moment like this.

She wouldn't miss it.

Maybe it would happen. Maybe it wouldn't have. But she knew she had to take the chance. Fifty, fifty.

Her lips sadly grin at his expression, the color seeping out of his cheeks before her eyes. He takes his gaze away to catch the sight of the ever-moving boy in the room.

That boy.

That boy is his.

His brows curl, his stomach does, too. He falters a bit, taking steps back. In all the plots of every book he's read, he's never come across a tale like this.

Bella hopes he doesn't run.

She squares her shoulders, tames her raging heart, and keeps from folding into herself.

 _He's here. He's back. He climbed right into my life._

Her arms locked tightly behind her or, she swears, she'll run to him.

One step at a time.

She nods towards the hallway past him. "The room you climbed into, it's yours. You can use the back or the front door any time." She shakes her head, lifting a hand. "If that's what you'd like. You're welcome here ... is what I want to say," she mutters.

She takes a breath, swallows a lump that makes her eyes prickle and blur. And he says nothing.

She expected that. She expected the worst.

So, with all her might, she uses the tactic she knows worked for her years ago as she sat on a crate trying to make him talk to her. She walks away as nonchalantly as she can muster. She opens the fridge and pulls out a few items. They all go onto the counter.

Edward looks at her.

"Elliot, do you want pancakes?"

Elliot squeals from the living room. That's a yes. She knows. It's a given.

Edward looks back at him.

His lips parted, watching this surreal scenario in front of him.

"I hoped I'd see you someday," Bella begins to say as she moves about. He follows her with clear, blue eyes she finds in her son every day. "I hoped to tell you things I've been meaning to say." She pauses for a breath, as the pan on the stove sizzles.

"You can stay for breakfast if you like," she offers. "It's up to you, but I'd really like it if you did." All she does is glance back at him once in all this because when she turns, she has to bite down on her trembling lip.

Her breath escapes her.

He's just as he was. Standing exactly where she ached for him to be. His presence is palpable.

She can hardly wait to show him everything.

If he just lets her.

….


	60. Chapter 60 - Her Name

**A/N: You guys are the best. *new fb hug emoji***

* * *

 **Chapter 60 - Her Name**

It took a while, but after some coaxing from her, he finally sat down. A plate and a fork at the head of the table, like it should be, like she'd daydreamed.

A chair is a chair, but one that tucks into the head of the table has some meaning. It's the place that has the table's full attention; it has presence. A father, a husband, the man of the house typically takes that seat, right there, at the end. Decades of the practice; in movies, on TV, at home with one's parents—that hour, when a group of people get together to have the last meal of the day. That chair … it's something. It could be anyone in it nowadays, but Edward sitting in it looks like something.

Bella thinks he looks … perfectly perplexed in it.

She went about her typical Saturday morning routine. How perfect. His timing impeccable. He didn't come on a weekday where chaos and shouting and walking over toys to get ready in the morning ensues. He came on a clear sunny morning, birds singing, and the breeze moving. A slow, lazy hour through a naturally sun-lit house. Bella in her nightgown, bare legs and feet. He sees every toe … her robe just touching her knees. Her folded leg is over the other as she leans toward her son. His son. Theirs?

Yes _. Theirs_.

Breathing is terribly difficult for both. But neither of them knows about the other. For Bella, her nerves make her shoulders tense, and fingers tremble. But she moves. She _does._ She cuts Elliot's pancake in pieces, blows on a bite, and takes the plastic, colorful fork to the boy's mouth. Happily, Elliot parts his lips as wide as they can go and accepts the soft, sweet piece of buttery pillow.

Edward watches.

Her slim wrist, her hand, the rings adorning a few fingers. The boy's pink tongue sticking out to get the sticky crumbs off a thumb. He's got her hair color, her mouth, but he sees everything else mirrored as someone else familiar. Edward recognizes his brother Emmett in Elliot's features. His _own_ features? He doesn't know. It's been a while since he's looked in a mirror.

Edward watches everything.

 _That's_ what makes Bella tremble.

She senses and sees from her peripheral when he does pick up his utensil. She sighs. He simply cuts a piece and picks it up. Syrup slowly dripping off. But his eyes are elsewhere, dripping awe from all the details. There's just too much to see to take that awaiting bite.

Elliot is making the funniest faces, mumbling the strangest noises, as the toy in his hand _flies_ around.

"So, you saw him in the woods on his walk?"

Edward turns his eyes to her. She's speaking to him.

"Yeah!" Elliot says around a full mouth answering. "And then we saw a deer-oh, and we ran toward it. It was a buck. The antlers were big."

Bella scrunches her brows.

Elliot's shoulders drop a little. "It wasn't danger-wus."

 _Yes, it was_. Edward looks away quickly and finally takes the cooled bite.

"You know better than that. And you know you shouldn't be hiding from Nana either. Wipe your mouth." She hands him a napkin. The boy does, but his head moves over his stilled hand instead of the other way around. It's … a humorous sight.

"Sorry," Bella says, glancing at Edward. She can only imagine the awkward encounter. She's also heartbroken she wasn't there to see it. How serendipitous, though. She could cry.

Elliot is full. He instantly climbs out of the chair with some maneuvering, butt in the air, hugging the chair, finally landing on his toes. He runs away. Edward watches, transfixed.

Bella wrings her hands, finding anything to do. She stacks up the dishes where she sits and cleans up crumbs off the table with a napkin. Her heart just picks up along with it, as the buffer has fled in short legs. She thinks she will look up, but it's become a game of dare. Dare to look into his piercing eyes.

"When? How?" He speaks. He hasn't spoken in years, but he let that throat coat itself; a few swallows, a bit of effort, and a lot of will. He had to ask. Words build themselves, and they pour out.

Bella looks up, surprised. By the looks of it, she can tell his silence was kept sacred. She guesses this was most likely the first time he's spoken a word in a while.

She softly grins about the 'how,' but suddenly, her spirits dampen just looking at him. What does he mean when? "You don't … you don't remember?"

He doesn't speak.

She nods once. "You don't remember," she says, dabbing her lips in thought like she's finally been enlightened with some answers.

She sighs. "You saved me from drowning, and you ran off. I found you days later. I found your tent, and I told you that I loved …. I told you how I felt." She swallows heavily and watches for any recognition over his face. "And you … said what you said, but I couldn't let it go. I was crazy for you. Two years trying to find you … I … I couldn't let it go. So, I went back that night."

Edward is blank.

She's saddened. Shame flushing her. "I climbed into your bed," she says a bit more daringly. "It wasn't just me there; you kissed me back. You did a lot more than that," she argues desperately, safeguarding the fact.

He shakes his head, assuring her. He grazes his thumb across his chin, let's go of his fork and stares blankly at the table. He does remember. He just thought it was someone else, his insanity finally taking its toll. His chest constricts. The last button fastened at his collar is suddenly choking him.

"I just … I thought it was someone else ... in a dream. A nightmare."

Bella is confused. Put off, actually. Was she a nightmare … his nightmare? Something terrible? Who else would it be? Was there another he was spending his days with, bringing him food and conversation?

"You'd think me insane," he says suddenly. His eyes averted. "It's this Lady … of the Woods. To me, she is. She'd come when I felt like I'd die; when I felt I'd finally let go. In winter especially. Those were the worst times. She'd come, and she'd tell me things."

Bella is speechless.

He blinks up at her.

"The way it felt when you left, I didn't doubt her … visit," he says with a pause. "Do you understand?"

He's vulnerable. He glances at Elliot across the room, then at anything but her. He regrets saying so.

Bella is frozen in her seat. All these years he experienced something else entirely than what she did. She had love and wonder. He had a dream?

"Am I crazy?" He speaks again.

She scrunches her brows at him this time.

He finally catches her stare. His squared shoulders and dark eyes. "What do you think I mean when I say Lady of the Woods?"

Bella shakes her head slightly. She thinks. "Mother Nature?"

He says, "No. Death."

Bella can't speak. Death at his feet. Death at his tent. Death at his darkest moments. Bella left. There was darkness after.

"She'd ask me to follow her, and I always refused. That night, I hoped so badly it wasn't … her coming in."

He folds his hands over his lap, digging his nails in his palm in discomfort.

"Am I crazy?" He carefully reiterates.

Bella blinks her reverie away, taking in his true meaning. "No." She shakes her head. "I don't think you're crazy. You're the smartest person I know."

His eyes close for a moment. The watery blur threatens to run down his face.

"You, Jane, and all your brothers; you're all so bright. So is Elliot. He's two, he shouldn't know so many words and speak them clearly. You should know this. It's all you. You're not crazy, Edward."

He opens his eyes at her words.

A tear falls, and he holds back so strongly from falling apart. She sees humanity pull through him for the very first time.

"I thought I definitely went crazy when I saw you, your swollen stomach. There was nothing left for me to stay. It was clear."

"You saw me pregnant?" Bella asks, perplexed, her face instantly crumbling. Tears fall down hers, too. She falls silent, giving in to sorrow and anger built up through the years. She takes a breath, like she'll speak, but stops. She cannot. Then she tries again. "I went back every day to find you. Why couldn't you wait? Why couldn't you wait for me to come to you?" She cries.

He's quietly watching her.

Oh, she sees.

"You saw me pregnant, and you also saw James," she says with a nod, wiping her cheeks.

"Like I said, there was nothing left for me. No food. No plan. It was dangerous staying another day. I could've been found; they were getting so close. I just … wanted to see you for the last time."

Bella takes in his heavy swallow of words. _Oh._ She suddenly feels ashamed. His departure was inevitable. He didn't leave because of her, not in this ridiculous romantic way a silly girl anguishes over. It was because of his _rules_.

Elliot comes running, curious. Like a personified regret. He stands by Edward's chair and looks up at him. His little smile fades. And those two look at one another.

 _… Because of his damned rules._

"You missed so much," Bella says. "His first steps. With Jane. She tirelessly helped. You should've seen them, Elliot and your nephews together. You missed his first word. Of course, it was 'book.'" She laughs slightly, but a wave of sadness takes over her, making her lips quiver, her breath stagger. "And the long nights when he just wouldn't stop crying, like he knew something was … missing."

Edward is frustrated. The things he went through to stay away. All to find peace. Or was it to run away from reality? Feelings for a woman he's never had. Yes, he ran. But he crawled right back, it seems. That Lady rushed him out of that farm, a place he would've been content residing in for the rest of his life. He would've missed so much more. Like he dreamed many times, waking up with tears in his eyes, the feeling of something in the midst he was slowly losing. But he's back to where he started. The paths looked oddly familiar … he should've known. He should've known this boy was his.

He breaks down. He silently cries, chin to chest.

Bella runs to him. Now it's her chance. She hugs him where she stands. Elliot watches on, slowly getting close, too.

Edward presses desperate apologies to her nightgown, she over the crown of his head.

"The things I went through," he says. "The things I did, Bella. _Bella_ …"

Her name. She cries along with him, but a spark of light shines warmly inside.

He's never said it. She didn't think he would even remember her name.

….


	61. Chapter 61 - Small Packages

**A/N: Happy long weekend if you're in the states. Otherwise, hap fri. But really, I love you for your reactions. Got lazy (or crazy) this week, but here's the next one. Wish them luck.**

* * *

 **Chapter 61 - Small Packages**

The tiles from the shower are really just a blank slate. The slate is all the scenarios, all the what if's… and all the memories of that night in that tent. Bella's eyes dry up, blink less. She's been standing in the shower for fifteen minutes now. It's coming. The sobs. It doesn't fail—the droplets of water mix with the tears.

Bella smothers her mouth and leans on the wall. Edward came back to her.

She hasn't told anyone yet.

Not Charlie, not Sue, not Jameson. Not even Jen. She's kept this all for herself for days now. She wants to savor it all. Like a secret she gets to keep for Elliot, Edward, and herself. Just the three of them.

The three.

Bella breaks down just like he did at the kitchen table. It's her turn.

She lets the stream wash her tears away, but not her joy.

She rushes to grab the towel, her hair dripping. This time she took way longer in there. No mother could possibly shower for longer than two minutes alone with a two-year-old in the house. She slips out of her room, clutching the towel around her to check on him. It's early. She hasn't been sleeping. How could she when a wish came true?

The hallway, the living room, the wooden floors are dark and quiet as she peeks into his room. Elliot is sideways on his speed car bed. She rolls her eyes. He's a whirlwind while sleeping.

Then she turns to go back to her room and almost screams.

Her stomach dropping to her toes.

There he is. Standing outside the doors leading to the patio. A tall, dark figure.

He's arrived early, the morning sun barely rising around him. He patiently stands there quietly, hands in his pockets, back turned. He's looking at every angle of the cabin, every window, every door, every blade of grass, or the logs that make the exterior walls.

She's so transfixed she stands there watching him, tall, strong shoulders, and handsome as she can remember. He begins to turn; Bella panics. _Oh. Naked._ She runs like mad to hide. She cringes and laughs at herself, but her heart is hammering, and her cheeks go red.

For the next ten minutes **,** Bella dresses nervously. She slips on a dress, a thick sweater over her shoulders. She's so, so desperate to meet him, but Elliot beat her to it. She turns an ear toward her bedroom door. Elliot is louder than any creature around these woods. They could manage alone for a minute. She grabs the lotion and smoothes her legs out, then arms. Maybe a bit around her chest and neck. She wrings her hands as she stares at her makeup bag from her vanity. Maybe a bit to hydrate her dark eyes from days of no sleep.

He left, but now he's back. It's been days. He stayed that Saturday. He never moved from that kitchen table as he watched Elliot play in the living room, just a few feet away. The open plan has common areas visible from any part of this room. It's what Bella wanted. Sam, Charlie, and Sue helped her pick out this place; Charlie upset that she'd be so far away from the city. That Elliot would be far away also. But she insisted. This is exactly what she anticipated.

The arrival.

She dabs a bit of perfume over her wrists and under her ears. Okay, that's enough. She feels ridiculous. As if this man ever noticed those details.

But she can't help herself. It's like the morning after Christmas. You have something tangible. It's special. You've acquired it, or you created it. A song you wrote, a painting. Anything. You're just so eager to meet with it again after a long night of sleep.

She rounds the corner of the hallway and takes a peek.

Elliot woke while she was back in her room dressing. He was the loud host who opened the door and welcomed him right in.

She will have a word with that little one for opening doors without permission. So many reprimands, so many lectures; Elliot chooses to listen to what he likes. This enrages her to no end.

Well, it's too late, Edward is in. She spots him from her hiding place behind the wall. Edward is awkward in his skin. Elliot pulls his hand, and pulls some more, until Edward has no choice but to sit. A tight smirk on his lips. But only terror shows … his utter, numbing terror.

Bella bites her lip not to chuckle aloud.

She shows herself. And that's when his terror turns to … something else. Nerves? No. A deer caught in headlights. Bella marches straight to the kitchen and preps the coffee pot. Elliot makes enough noise for the three of them; she doesn't have to say a word, neither does Edward. But when she does look over her shoulder, he's watching her.

God, the lead in her stomach. She takes a good hefty breath and continues to work on two mugs, then heads toward him.

"Hello," Edward says as he takes the hot mug. It's immediate. Bella holds hers from touching her lips as she marvels, surprised.

 _Hello._ His first word to her. This time he looked up at her eyes so boldly.

Her knees grow a bit weaker than they already are. She sits close by. "Morning."

They both take a sip.

She remembers, lifting a finger. "I actually don't remember how you take it," she says apologetically about his coffee.

"It's fine," he mentions with a quick glance. He lets the heat trickle down his throat. She doesn't know it's his first cup in a long while. Anything is delicious.

He glances at her for a second before looking away.

Her scent is delicious.

Edward guesses he's been out in the woods too long. Scents like Bellas don't come around at all. And definitely not on a farm. He takes in a hefty breath.

They silently watch Elliot in his pajamas and unruly hair, currently banging two trucks together, miniature pedestrians lag around, dropping on their backs like flies with the ruckus.

All Edward sees is skin. Soft skin beneath him. Oh, he remembers all right. These past few days away were like Polaroids slowly fading up imagery. Stocked away in his mind, slowly emerging to the very back of his eyes. Nerve endings shooting through his limbs. Her lips. Her closed lids. The sounds she made right under him.

This total and devastating greed inside him as he erupted and finally accepted her arms around him. Bella was right. He did a lot more than _that_.

He looks over from the corner of his eye at her, all of her. His eyes roam to her bare legs again. Toes visible in sandals suspended in the air where she crossed her legs, about to slip off a delicate foot. That skin running up and over her legs under that dress.

Oh, he remembers, and then he's paralyzed. Maybe he shouldn't have come back.

"It's been days," Bella speaks up. "I thought I scared you away."

He blinks up at her face, caught looking. He reddens, shifts in his seat.

His head shakes slightly. _No. Maybe._ He doesn't know yet. The other day here was a lot. Him finding out about … life in this cabin, practically waiting for him. He wants to ask.

"It was daunting." He manages. He's blunt. Never one to be hesitant with thoughts like this. Bella grins sadly. "You stayed," he adds.

She nods. "I couldn't find myself to leave the camp." She did it for him. He knows this. It overwhelms him.

"You didn't have to. You have a home, another purple room elsewhere, perhaps. A life. A family. College." He suggests. He remembers her words before she left.

"No," she simply says with a shrug. "I didn't. I had a baby, a blank slate, and … a lot of hope."

"You have it all." He looks at her. Her cold blue lips he breathed life into. He remembers that … her reason for jumping. The audacity of her actions.

"Had," she corrects. "It didn't mean anything the moment I found out I was going to have Elliot."

He doesn't understand. Why would she give it all up? It's outrageous. He looks at her this time, his head shaking like he's angry she did this.

"It's not far from what you did, leaving your family," She says to his silent question. His attitude seems to deflate, so do his shoulders with their tension. "And how else would I have found you?"

This was all for him?

"No." He says straight. "That's foolish. I'm not nearly enough compensation for what you lost. I'm …"

"The father of my child." She interrupts. "It's what people, _some_ people, do for family," she says to make a point.

His líps seal shut. He rests elbows on his knees as he balances the mug in his hands.

She laughs a little, breaking the silence. "Don't be so egocentric." She rolls her eyes teasing. "Though you're worth every reason, it wasn't a decision made entirely for you. It was for Elliot. It was for me. It was for the reservation. We have a life here. This is my home I bought with my own money. Sue has been a fantastic mentor. I help people here. I have plans to help more."

People like Edward, to be exact. Bella is in her second year of university on a full scholarship, where she'll soon become a licensed psychologist toward her path to becoming a researcher focused on mental health. She's already had honors and continues to impress scholars on her contribution to the reservation. Her internship in Boston, winning out over thousands of applicants, provided a central city apartment she gets to stay in with Elliot to help in research labs at the general hospital. All this is because of her thesis on a specified human behavior; the kind this handsome man across from her, watching her so intently, placing those butterflies in her stomach, naturally lives by.

"I've been doing okay for myself." She underwhelms with a smile.

She stands to make breakfast. Today she'll take the day off. She's already given everyone affected by her absence a call. She saw he came back; she wants this time with him.

As eggs and bacon with toast make it onto plates and on one small plate with Star-lord printed on it, Edward is speechless. Elliot is the one to take his hand yet again and pull him to the kitchen table this time.

They eat. Or, Elliot does. The adults are in a silent quarrel with themselves, it seems.

"Where did you go?" Bella opens that portal back up. "Did you find … what you were looking for?"

He thinks quietly. It almost seems like he won't answer at times. But it's him, just taking his time forming the right words. Concise and to the point, then he fires. "I thought I did," he says. It's the truth. He would've stayed on that farm.

"Oh?" she encourages. She waits.

"I didn't find much but trees. A desert but with greens."

She notices his face change with that. _Oh._ It didn't go well.

"Did you have enough to live off of?"

He watches Elliot take a bite of buttery toast. He munches on it quickly to get another bite, mouth still full. A race. A desperate one because it just tastes so good.

Well, that was him. He felt that way about finding food and taking a bite of house after house. Desperate.

"Not quite." He sips from his mug.

Bella's stomach drops. It didn't go well at all. Terrible, even.

"What did you do? I mean, you look … you're healthy. You're strong. You look well." Gorgeous. Clean. Lithe. At his prime. Sun-kissed skin. His hair pushed back neatly, but layers of dark and light strands were exposed by the sun and elements, tousled in places. His glasses are pinned to a button of his clean shirt. Bella swallows thickly. Her eyes trip over all the details. "You must've figured it out."

"Not without a price," he says cryptically.

Bella is dying here, anxious for the full picture. "Tell me everything? Please. I've worried sick for so long. I've dreamt about the worst. I dreamt of you lifeless on the ground somewhere. Where were you, Edward?"

He looks at her. Her brows crinkle slightly as she examines. Her genuine worry. He's never needed someone's worry, yet, she's giving it freely. Well, he'll accept.

"At first, I wasn't sure." He relents. "But then I did … things to make these hikers … comfortable. I had no choice. I couldn't shake them off. I lost my things in Canada. I almost lost my life there too, but I guess that's nothing new. They're probably still under custody, and I thankfully dodged that. Quite literally."

"How badly hurt?" Her heart in her throat.

He shrugs enough. "Woke up in a hospital, but I was able to get away,"

Bella is speechless. She dares not speak.

His brows furrow like he's remembering everything.

"Nova Scotia," he simply says like he just remembered. "That's where I ended up."

She nods dumbfounded. "So … what was in Nova Scotia?"

He tilts his head slightly like it escaped his grasp, something he wanted, and it's just too bad. "A promising life. Or so I thought."

"Okay." Bella's insides curl a bit. He found someplace new. "Do you … miss it?"

He frowns a bit at the corner of his mouth. "I grew to like it, the farm …"

 _A farm._ Bella takes a mental note.

"The owner was generous, so were the meals as payment for labor. I guess if that's the way to describe it, yes, I do miss it."

"What did you do there?" _Were you happy?_ That's what she really wants to ask. So many things, but they're interrupted.

Elliot is done eating. Surprisingly quiet through breakfast as he maneuvered a tablet with small fingers, his attention fully rapt to notice anything else around him. But he does remember the fruit gummies in the drawer by the fridge. He takes a pouch to Edward after fetching it. He reaches up for him to take.

Edward hesitantly takes it and watches the boy scramble back up in his chair. He adjusts himself, and he waits. The boy needs help opening his snack.

Bella covers her mouth with a palm, her elbow resting on the table as she takes it all in, not daring to interfere.

Edward slits the package open, and Elliot instantly opens his mouth, turned toward his father. His eyes averted, though; the tablet has colorful animated cartoons.

Edward reaches over and suspends a piece by those pink lips.

Elliot pulls the big piece off Edward's fingers with his little teeth. He commences to poke the other half of the gummy in until all of it is in his mouth. He chews big.

Bella tries not to laugh loud at Edward's panicked expression. Too big for such a small mouth is what Edward thinks. Bella knows he won't choke. The kid can maneuver candy like a pro.

"Uh … I fed goats," Edward continues saying. "Harvested Lavender every season, kept the equipment running. Ran errands for the boss." He answers her question, but his eyes are glued to the gnawing kid. He feeds him another. Fascinated.

"He likes these," he says to Bella as he digs for another in the small package.

She nods, smiling. Her eyes blurring. She quickly busies herself, picking up dishes, also to frantically clear stray tears off her cheeks.

"Ran errands, huh?" She asks, trying to sound nonchalant. But her expertise tells her that was a milestone. Edward shopping at a store, Edward picking up a shipment for a farm. All of it involving people around him. Unfathomable. "How was that like?" she adds.

He hesitates to answer. "I endured it."

Bella smiles down at her dishes. She doesn't think he realizes the accomplishment; like an addict refusing a drink or a smoke. A maim learning to walk again. He stumbled upon the circumstances, and he simply accomplished them.

There is hope for this man. Her heart could burst so loudly, but only the soap bubbles silently do around her hands.

"What will you do now?" She pushes. She wants to make him think.

Edward hasn't thought about it. He's never the type to. Edward goes where the wind takes him.

But now, as he watches this boy and his now, red-stained líps, living, existing, ripping the chewy heads off these gummy bears first—inarguably the best part—he does think about it.

What _will_ he do? He's discovered so much in this cabin. And it all came in small packages.

….


	62. Chapter 62 - Hiding This Stranger

**A/N: Hope this finds you all well. xoxo**

* * *

 **Chapter 62 – Hiding This Stranger**

The next morning he's back to standing out on the patio. It's a small patio. Everything about this cabin is minimal. A single mother with barely any money, getting herself through school, even if it is just supplies and books, it all adds up. Bella works like mad during summers. Sue and Charlie watch Elliot, or sometimes she drops him off with his grandmother.

Bella opens the door to let him in as the sun is coming up. It's like she has this secret that is very much about him. She knows his family, all odds and ends, she's visited and stayed in his childhood room. All of these details and he doesn't know.

Well, she mentioned his family, but he hasn't asked. She doesn't know he's planning to today. Every night he leaves this place he camps for the night in the woods like he always does, and he thinks. Every detailed conversation, he runs through in loops.

Jane helped Elliot learn to walk. That seems surreal. His mother knows? He doesn't know what to think. He didn't think they'd be invested.

Bella is moving around in the kitchen.

He's silently standing in the middle of the room, not really in the kitchen, not really in the living room.

"He's still. asleep, it won't be long." She confirms about Elliot. The buffer. It's … a lot without him. "That room, straight ahead, if you're wondering," Bella adds in case he was.

He slowly walks over, hands in his pockets, after hesitating for a long pause. He pushes the bedroom door with a finger; the door makes no sounds. He peeks in. The boy's room is one of a little boy's dreams. Well, at least it would've been his when he was young. The race car bed. The little furniture. The shelves with tiny books. And toys, lots of toys in a colorful room.

Bella looks over her shoulder … she's all twisted guts inside seeing these unfathomable scenarios. He did go to see his room. She thought he never would.

She quickly shakes off any more scenarios where he goes in every night to tuck him in, read him a book. She feels too greedy.

 _Bella, calm down._

But she can't. This is like torture and a dream coming true all at once. Time. Time will tell. What if he doesn't want to come back, to be here for years to come? What if this is the routine every morning … him never stepping a foot in that room she dumbly made for him. She feels so stupid. She can't hold him here, begging through tears to stay.

She can't.

She takes in a staggering breath because as her mind whirled in agony, Edward quietly walked up to her. He's suddenly … close. She freezes. The spatula in her hand, the flames under the pan blazing.

Well, she's blazing a blaze so hot; his breath at her shoulder, her hair. He thinks; another dress.

He remembers that skirt and her long legs wrapped around his that night she _didn't_ sleep on his bed. He slept on the floor, and he was so furious. Then she found her way there with him, abandoning a perfectly comfortable bed to calm her fears.

He remembers that, too. Lately, vivid memories seem to come easily. He stares up at treetops at night, pitch darkness, his eyes trained, but trained at the images conjuring up. In the morning, he walks back. He can't help himself. It's too extraordinary what's happening here. He's discovered it.

That, and her delicious scent.

He's been thinking about it. A dream he had where he was enveloped in it. A cloud around him. He woke and sought after it.

He breathes her in. Injecting him for keeps, when pitch darkness out in the woods is unbearable.

"Your hair is longer," he muses.

Bella turns her head. Just that. Her limbs tremble but stay put.

"He has your hair," he adds to this. What is this?

Bella nods slightly. "And he has your eyes and mouth."

 _Mouth._ She tries not to think of it. She won't turn around to see it, to compare.

"... and so many things, really." She smiles to herself.

He's quiet. But she swears she feels her hair move at the ends.

"No. He looks like my brother."

"Which one? Emmett?" She asks, moving the spatula. There's also Garret, and Erick, and Seth. Edward is the fifth. She's dying a little. He's still so close, immobile. She feels him peek over to watch her profile. "Yeah, he does," she agrees. "Emmett thinks so too, but he doesn't admit it." She nervously chuckles.

She's a puddle inside.

"You've met them? Jane?" Here it comes. She's mortified. "How?" he asks.

Bella moves the pan to another burner with the browned eggs in it. She gives up. What she does try again is her nerve to turn around. She does. And there's barely room to do so. She leans against the counter and looks at anything but his eyes. The button of his shirt is enough.

"I wanted to meet them. I wanted to tell them. You spoke so little, but with your name alone, I was able to find them." She rubs her neck where she felt him. "Well, Emmett figured it out when I tried to run." She laughs. She sobers when nothing is said.

"Forgive me. I overstepped." She glances up at him.

He knows no balance. The spindle going from one extreme to another; his no contact rule to invading someone's personal space for a stretched moment, especially during this delicate conversation. She doesn't mind one bit. How many times has she dreamed this up? She absorbs the warmth coming off him, dizzily.

He watches how her lashes fan her face, and the red of her lips pale when he's this close. They're perfectly red when he's farther away. He analyses. He watches the fidgets in her hands, the tuck of hair behind her ear. She folds her arms under her breasts, then lets go, barely skimming his chest. Her dress is modest. The memory of that day she slipped it off her body to show him, far from. He remembers.

"Your sister is wonderful with him. Elliot loves her. And you have so many nephews and nieces. They've all met him, actually." She shrugs. "I figured he would at least know a part of you if we never got to see you again. Your mom just accepted, no question. It was remarkable.

"Your parents are remarkable. They love you." She nods, babbling. "Your mother cried, but only asked after you once. Like she understands. I didn't. Still don't. I'm not sure why she never looked for you."

Bella lets that linger. She doesn't know why she's let that out. She winces slightly.

"I had good parents," he says, "We're not emotionally bleeding all over each other. We're not touchy-feely; that's expected."

Bella noticed. Actually, she noticed how a loud and spirited Elliot broke the dreariness a little. The Cullen house is more colorful; it matches Jane's mural.

She lets her gaze trail to his face. Him still looking on, not quite done with taking in all the changes. She's far more grown than he remembered. Much so with the rushed life she'd had. A lot to learn as a mother in so little time. Age in her eyes, far beyond her years.

Bella tests that theory. The touchy-feely one. She's beginning to think it's not true. She skims a hand over his arm to his shoulder. It's bashful, almost like a silly pat there, to ease in. He doesn't move, so she keeps going. Next is his collar, she tugs at it a bit, as it slips between her fingers. She finally lets her hand fall over his heart. The moment she aims to touch his face, he pulls away. He simply takes a few steps toward the table, runs his fingers over the top, and roams the rest of the kitchen like he's interested in the lines and structure.

Sue walks in through the patio when they finally part. Bella and a strange man standing close. It was a sight.

It just took a moment, but Sue did stand at the threshold, suddenly feeling like she should keep silent.

"Oh," Bella says. Her face flushed. She quickly straightens from where she stands. She shuffles around, a bit lost. "I forgot to call you. I was … about to tell you I was keeping Elliot today. Maybe for the rest of the week."

Sue nods, but with a soft grin over her lips. Her eyes going from her step-daughter to the stranger.

Edward is a bit stoic where he stands with the surprise guest. He looks at anything but toward the door. He turns and stares out a window giving them privacy, if that's possible.

Bella walks up to Sue. "Sorry I made you come all this way."

"All this way? It's down the path, sweetie." Sue teases. She looks over Bella's shoulder.

"Oh, this is …" Bella stumbles to explain. She's a shaken mess, and Sue likes this new look on her.

"Edward, isn't it?" Sue says. Edward looks back. Sue boldly walks past Bella and into the room, her eyes taking him in like a ghost story has materialized. "It's an honor meeting you. I've heard … quite a bit." She grins as she stops a yard or two away. Not a bit, but a lot. Substantially. "You can call me Sue." _From now on_. She assumes he'll stay, or insinuates.

Edward dips his head at her with arms crossed over his chest, his eyes not catching hers completely, but he remembers her from the trail, looking for Elliot. "Pleasure," he politely says.

Sue's eyes roam from his head to the toe of his boot. His dated frames tucked into his shirt. "Now that you're here and need anything … medical care as a general, it's free. I know a great doctor. I can imagine the... long journey you've had. It wouldn't hurt to check if you need anything."

Edward's brows knit, but the offer makes him really look at her. Her kindness. He's never been sick in his life.

"You don't look traveled. Impressively so." She folds her arms at her chest just like him, the handsome man in front of her, standing with his shoulder to her, like he'll run away any second. "But I wanted to extend the welcome anyway. I can't help it. It's part of my DNA to offer." She smiles.

"Thank you." He says nothing else.

"Welcome back," she finishes saying. Edward frowns at that. He was widely missed? He doesn't know what to make of that.

Sue walks out, but before she does, she gives Bella a strengthening hug, the delightful promise of telling the people who have been eagerly waiting for this return is all-consuming inside her. She could just squeal loudly.

Well, maybe to just telling her dad, Sam, the man who has tirelessly been sending word to all his friends living in all corners of Maine that a very special man is missing. The word traveled, but it never did get to where Edward stepped foot. Sam tried. Charlie did, too, or looked on wondering what would become of his daughter's secret hope. Sometimes, a bit unfairly angry.

Sue will definitely tell Sam. Maybe not Charlie, not just yet.

She watches from outside in, as Elliot runs from his room straight into the arms of his father, who's caught by surprise. Well, what do you know … it looks like Bella has been hiding this stranger long enough for a child to find trust.

She can't take it. She does laugh out loud as she walks away.

….


End file.
